


Hot and Cold

by Joanorbis



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, Pezberry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-09 08:41:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 36,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4341758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joanorbis/pseuds/Joanorbis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The win at Nationals leads to a drunken confession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapeter 1. Chicago

They laughed as they stumbled through the door.

“That was the best thing ever!” Rachel sang, falling onto the bed.

“I know!” Santana screamed, jumping on next to her. “I can’t believe we won! That was fucking awesome!”

“Woo!” Rachel threw her arms in the air and kicked up her legs. Santana laughed and shrieked along and rolled over to face her. As the giggles subsided Santana smiled at Rachel.

“It was amazing. You were amazing.”

“Thanks. You were pretty terrific yourself.”

“Bitch, please.” Laughed Santana, lying down. “I owned that shit. As usual.”

Rachel laughed and rolled over to face her. “I always knew we would be here.”

Santana arched a perfect eyebrow at her. “Us? On your bed?”

“No, silly!” Rachel laughed, swatting her playfully. “On stage. Performing. Winning.”

“Oh. Yeah. Well, obviously you would go there.” Santana leaned up on her elbow, moving her face closer to Rachel. “I, on the other hand, always knew we would end up here. On your bed.”

“Stop messing around, Santana.” Rachel giggled and lay back down.

“I am not messing around, Rachel.” Santana leaned in closer and rested her hand on Rachel’s stomach. “I’ve kind of got a huge crush on you.” She smiled.

Rachel stopped laughing and looked up at her. “What?”

Santana smiled again. “I’m serious. For a while now.” She began running her finger up and down Rachel’s stomach, lengthening the movement with each stroke. “Ever since you sang…”

“Stop it!” Rachel pushed her hand away and sat up quickly. “Please, Santana, I’m not in the mood for your games tonight. I thought we were having such a lovely evening. I thought we were getting really close.”

“We are!” Santana sat up and took her hand. “Come on, Rach, lie back down. Just go with it.”

“No!” Rachel jumped up and stood in the middle of the room. “Santana, I don’t know what you are hoping to achieve with this little charade but I have had enough.” She put her hands on her hips and looked at the floor. “Please leave.”

“I’m not playing, Rachel.” Santana said softly. “I am serious. I really like you.” She stood up and moved in front of Rachel, taking her hands in hers and holding them in front of her. “Really, really like you.”

“Please stop.” Rachel whispered, feeling the tears well up in her eyes and desperately trying not to cry. “Santana, you’re drunk.”

Santana shrugged. “Not unusual. Doesn’t change anything.” She moved in closer and softly kissed Rachel’s jawline, moving her hands to Rachel’s waist.

“Stop it.” Rachel whispered, sounding anything but certain. “Please stop.”

Feeling a break in Rachel’s resistance Santana moved her kisses up to her earlobe and slowly down her throat, moving her body closer.

“Santana. Stop.” Rachel pushed her away gently. “I have a boyfriend.”

Santana scoffed and took a step back, folding her arms. “What, Frankenteen? The man with less moves than a constipated bowel?”

“Yes.” Rachel replied, Santana’s rude comment helping her to regain her composure. “And I love him very much.” She smoothed her skirt down and willed the fluttering in her stomach to die down. “I think it’s time you left.” She held her head up and somehow managed to maintain eye contact with Santana for the first time since she had started stroking her stomach.

Santana held her stare for a moment before rolling her eyes and heading for the door. “Whatever. I’m out.”

 

Rachel lay in her bed, her mind in a whirl. She loved Finn. She loved him. She was in love with him. They were happy. Finally. So why had Santana’s actions affected her so deeply? And why had she not stopped her sooner?

And why had she said boyfriend and not fiancee?

She reached for her phone, desperate to take her mind off the situation. She logged on to the National’s website and looked through the pictures they had uploaded from tonight’s performance. They looked fantastic. All of them. She smiled at the pictures of her in the middle of her solo. She laughed at Finn’s goofy expression. Then she stopped. Santana. The photographer had caught her at an unbelievable angle. The flash in her eyes, the sexy smirk playing on her lips…

“Rachel, get a hold of yourself.” She dropped her phone into her lap and rubbed her eyes. She had to control this situation. Fast.

_Hi Santana. Look, I’m sorry. I was rude to you and I shouldn’t have been. I had a little too much to drink and I didn’t handle it well. Please accept my apology._

_No big deal. I misread it. Thought you would be into it._

_Well, I hope the situation is clear now. I am in love with Finn. I hope that our friendship will continue. I very much enjoyed your company this evening._

_I can come back if you like ;)_

_Goodnight, Santana._

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning Santana groaned as she sat up, a monster headache brewing. More than that, the events of last night came screaming back and she rubbed at her temples in a vague effort to erase the embarrassing memory.

She had told Rachel she liked her. Why? For the love of God, what had she expected to gain from it?

“Pendeja.” She cursed softly to herself, dragging herself out of bed and into the shower.

It was going to be a long trip back to Lima.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2. Lima

  
  


To say that the situation was tense between them over the next couple of weeks would be an understatement. Thankfully, Berry had taken a break from tradition and not immediately pulled her into a long discussion about it. Santana couldn’t help but feel grateful...and a little confused.

 

Truthfully she didn’t know what to think. She couldn’t help but have these feelings for Rachel (believe her, she had tried) but she had long since made peace with it and buried them. Or at least she thought she had. But then after that night at Nationals...well, let’s just say that her thoughts were now resembling the Evil Dead.

 

She groaned and rolled over in her bed. She didn’t even know how she had ended up in Berry’s room that night. Why hadn’t she been with Britt? Fuck, why wasn’t she with Britt now? Oh, yeah. Britt was off helping out Lady Hummel’s dad with something, which...don’t even. Everyone had gone beyond sappy this last week. God, it was like they were all drowning in a sea of Pink Lemonade. Seriously, her face hurt from smiling all week. Alright, she could admit she was happy for these douchebags really, but it was exhausting. With all the smiling. And the being happy. And the hugging. And all their dreams coming true while she was heading to Kenfucky.

 

Seriously.

 

Surely she should be heading somewhere as cool and interesting as she was, not Hicksville.

 

Somewhere like New York.

 

Where Berry was going.

 

Not the point.

 

Really not the point.

 

“Urgh, what is wrong with you?” She growled, burying her face in the pillow.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Quinn had told her in the bathroom that she thought Rachel and Finn were meant to be Rachel was not sure why she had deflected the conversation onto Quinn and Puck. She had waited such a long time for Quinn’s acceptance so why had she just brushed it off?

 

Her head was in such a mess since she got back from Nationals. This was her last few weeks of high school, she should be happy and excited and walking through the hallways belting out showtunes at the top of her lungs. Instead she was panicking about whether or not she, Finn and Kurt were going to make it to New York and...wedding stuff.

Wedding stuff.

 

God, when had it turned into “wedding stuff”? This was supposed to be preparation for the happiest day of her life, not “stuff”.

 

God, what was wrong with her?

 

* * *

 

 

When she found out Brittany was not going to college it only made her even more convinced that going to Kentucky was not what she wanted. But then, when her mom gave her the money and told her to go to New York…

 

At first Santana was really excited. She really wanted to talk to Rachel and Kurt about it all. Not that she would live with them or anything. God, no. This was the start for her. She didn’t want to tie herself to Lady and the tiny tramp and ruin her chance before it even began. Probably.

 

But then all the drama happened. Kurt and Staypuft didn’t get in and then Rachel...

 

She didn’t say goodbye. She didn’t even look at her.

 

So she just stood back as her stupid train pulled out and took her off to her new life in New York.

  
Santana couldn’t even bring herself to wave.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3. Kentucky

 

So, Santana’s life officially sucked. Classes all day then Cheerleading practice every night til midnight. She barely had time to talk to Britt and there was literally no one here that she wanted to talk to.

 

Except for the girl who had spent several minutes eye fucking her in the library. But she couldn’t talk to her. No. That way badness lay…

 

God, what was she doing?

 

On the rare occasion that she did get to Skype Britt (and they weren’t discussing…pressing matters) she heard about the new Glee kids at McKinley and what the old crew were up to. She had had a few messages directly, mostly from Puck, a couple from Quinn, but most of the rest of them seemed nonplussed by Santana’s attempts to stay in contact.

 

She supposed she couldn’t really blame them. She had spent most of high school insulting them after all, but she really tried in the final year. Well, final few months. Weeks, whatever, she had genuinely tried, and she missed them, okay? What, just because she called them on all their shit and occasionally attacked them (verbally. Okay, sometimes physically), didn’t mean she didn’t care about them. Quite the opposite.

 

And she hadn’t heard from Rachel at all.

 

And God, why did she care?

 

 

* * *

 

 

So, she’d been out at a frat party.

 

Okay, maybe she was a little drunk.

 

She logged onto skype and clicked on her contacts and groaned in frustration when Britt was not online. She still felt bad about not being there for her Britney meltdown but things had been relatively okay between them for the last couple of weeks and she could really do with a scissor Skype session right now.

 

Okay. Maybe she was a lot drunk.

 

Her eyes focussed on the green light that had just gone on next to one of her contacts.

 

Rachel.

 

Her finger hovered over the call button.

 

For about half a second.

Rachel answered after about 30 seconds with a confused look on her face.

 

“Santana, hi.”

 

“Hey, dwarf, how’s the big apple?” Was she slurring? She felt like she was slurring.

 

“Um, yeah. It’s, um, good.”

 

“Well, shit, Berry. Try reigning that enthusiasm in a bit, huh?”

 

Rachel gave a small smile and shook her head. “Sorry. No, it’s great. It’s just...it’s nothing. Rough day in dance 101 I guess.” She shook her head softly, pushing her hair off her face. “How’s Kentucky?”

 

“Pft. Just peachy.” Santana chuckled. “Living the dream, baby!”

 

Rachel crossed her arms and smiled again. “College not all we dreamed of I guess?”

 

“Yeah, it feels a lot like High School. Except more expensive.” Santana took another drink. “And I miss you.”

 

Rachel was silent for a second, a small frown wrinkling her brow. “You miss me?”

 

Santana coughed quickly, realising what she had said. “Yeah. You know. You. Kurt. Puck, Quinn. Gleeks.” She quickly took another drink to hide her embarrassment. “I miss Glee, okay?”

 

“Okay.” Rachel smiled. “Well, I promise I won’t tell anyone, Santana.”

 

“Wise decision, Berry. I’d hate to have to drag my ass to New York to kiss yours. Kick!” Jesus, how much had she had to drink?! “Kick your ass.”

 

“Santana, are you drunk?” Rachel laughed.

 

“God! No!” Santana face palmed. “Maybe. Yes.” She spread her fingers and peeked one eye towards the webcam. “Frat party. There may have been some bourbon. And by some I mean… a lot.” She sighed and folded her arms. “All of it, possibly.”

 

Rachel laughed again. “God, I would kill for a drink right now. But,” She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I have to be up early for dance practice so…”

 

“Oh, come on, don’t go.” Santana whined. She knew she was whining. She hated herself for it. “I haven’t talked to you since…”

 

“I know, I’m sorry. I have been terrible at keeping in touch with...well everyone. It’s just,” Rachel blew up into her hair and dropped her eyes. “It’s just a lot. You know?” She looked up again. “It’s not high school.”

 

Santana nodded and dropped her eyes. “Yeah, I know.” She said quietly.

 

“Okay,” Rachel sighed after a couple of seconds. “I’m gonna go. It’s good to see you again, Santana.”

 

“Yeah, you too, Berry.” Santana raised her eyes to the screen again and tried to smile. “Talk to you soon, ‘kay?”

 

She smiled. “Bye, Santana.”

 

And the screen went blank.

 

Santana sat there for a few minutes just staring at it, then downed her drink and flopped down on the bed.

 

She was drunk. She was horny. She was alone. What’s a girl to do? She undid her jeans and slipped her hand into her underwear. God, when did she get so wet? As she moved her hand back and forth over her clit she tried to conjure Brittany’s face and hear her voice in her ear but soon enough the drink took over and her mind went blank. Then out of the black came Rachel’s face, blowing hair out of her eyes and dropping her gaze.

  
And as those big brown eyes raised again Santana let out a loud moan and came much harder than she expected.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4. New York

 

New York had not been what she had expected. Of course, she had not expected it to be easy, she wasn’t that naive, and a lot of it was as amazing as she had dreamed.

 

Still. The first two months had been really hard. Her dorm at NYADA had afforded her no space to complete her daily rituals and her roommate was like a straight Santana, although much less attractive, which had wreaked havoc on her sleep pattern.

 

The classes at school were extremely demanding and the competition fierce, which she was expecting and revelled in. What she had not been expecting was dance 101 and the horror that was Cassandra July. Seriously the woman was awful. She was like Santana with really bad PMS.

 

Was she really missing Santana? Is that how bad her life was?

 

No, her life wasn’t bad. It was amazing. She was in New York, living her dream. And she missed all the Glee club, Santana included. She missed Kurt most of all. She wished with all her heart that he had managed to get into NYADA with her, it just wasn’t the same without him.

 

And Finn, of course.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kurt arriving in New York was the best day of her life. Then they found the loft and that was the best day of her life. And then Brody had brought the orchid and told her that he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her (or something, her brain had gone on a wander at that point) and that was… well, it raised some complicated feelings. But she hadn’t heard from Finn in three months and, well, Brody was gorgeous. And his voice. And his abs.

 

Life was officially getting better.

 

And then she made the comment to Ms July and it all went really, really bad.

 

She was so stressed out by the time she got home after rehearsal that she just wanted to start drinking and never stop. Which was a weird feeling because she hadn’t drunk since that awful alcohol awareness week at McKinley.

 

She flopped down on her bed and logged on to her email. Almost immediately a call came through on Skype. To say she was surprised to see Santana’s picture pop up would be an understatement and she was hesitant to answer. They had barely spoken to each other since Nationals, and that was not entirely unintentional.

 

She went to hit decline.

 

And missed.

 

“Santana, hi.” How had she missed?

 

“Hey, dwarf, how’s the big apple?”

 

“Um, yeah. It’s, um, good.” Great. Just what she needed. This would really improve her day.

 

“Well, shit, Berry. Try reigning that enthusiasm in a bit, huh?”

 

Rachel gave a small smile at the classic Santana eyeroll and shook her head. “Sorry. No, it’s great. It’s just...it’s nothing. Rough day in dance 101 I guess.” Understatement alert. “How’s Kentucky?”

 

“Pft. Just peachy.” Santana chuckled. “Living the dream, baby!”

 

Seems like she wasn’t the only one having a rough time. “College not all we dreamed of I guess?”

 

“Yeah, it feels a lot like High School. Except more expensive.” Santana’s head ducked out of frame and away from the mic causing her next words to be slightly unclear. “And I miss you.”

 

Rachel was confused. Had she heard that right.“You miss me?”

 

Santana coughed off camera. “Yeah. You know. You. Kurt. Puck, Quinn. Gleeks.” Suddenly she popped back into frame looking slightly flushed. “I miss Glee, okay?”

 

“Okay.” Rachel smiled. “Well, I promise I won’t tell anyone, Santana.”

 

“Wise decision, Berry. I’d hate to have to drag my ass to New York to kiss yours. Kick!” A look of horror and confusion shot across her face. “Kick your ass.”

 

“Santana, are you drunk?” Rachel laughed.

 

“God! No!” Santana face palmed. “Maybe. Yes.” She spread her fingers and peeked one eye towards the webcam. “Frat party. There may have been some bourbon. And by some I mean… a lot.” She sighed and folded her arms. “All of it, possibly.”

 

Rachel laughed again. Santana was cute when she was drunk. “God, I would kill for a drink right now. But,” She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I have to be up early for dance practice so…”

 

“Oh, come on, don’t go.” Santana said. Or kind of whined, actually. “I haven’t talked to you since…”

 

“I know, I’m sorry. I have been terrible at keeping in touch with...well everyone. It’s just,” Rachel blew up into her hair and dropped her eyes. “It’s just a lot. You know?” She looked up again. “It’s not high school.”

 

Santana nodded and dropped her eyes. “Yeah, I know.” She said quietly.

 

The drink had made her face slightly flushed. God, she was cute when she was drunk. And so hot.

 

Okay. What?

 

“Okay, I’m gonna go. It’s good to see you again, Santana.”

 

“Yeah, you too, Berry.” Santana raised her eyes to the screen again and gave a small smile. “Talk to you soon, ‘kay?”

 

So cute. What the hell? “Bye, Santana.”

 

She disconnected the call and flopped back on her bed.

 

She thought back to dance class. God, why had she said that? She was never that mean to somebody, no matter how much they provoked her. Except once. She thought back to the day that she had yelled at Santana in front of the entire Glee club that the only career she would have would be on a pole.

 

Why had she said that? Of all the things Santana had done to her and said to her over the years, why had she snapped then?

 

She remembered it clearly. It was leading up to Valentine’s day. Finn was quite obviously going after Quinn and she felt lonely and angry. She just joined in with the anti Santana rant. It wasn’t even like Santana had said anything bad. She had made a joke about Finn’s physique. Because Finn had offered to set up a kissing booth.

 

God, she was tired. She went to the bathroom and performed her extensive night time ritual and tried to settle her thoughts.

 

As she climbed into her bed she made a conscious effort to banish all thoughts of Miss July. And Santana.

 

* * *

 

 

Lips on her neck.

 

Hands in her hair.

 

A thigh pressed between her legs.

 

A soft moan in her ear.

 

“Oh, God…” She moaned softly.

 

One of the hands dropped from her hair and stroked down her neck to her breast. She arched into it and pulled the face up to meet her lips, letting her moan escape into the warm soft mouth.

 

A thumb grazed across her nipple and sent a rush straight to her core. Her mouth broke free with a desperate cry as she dragged her nails down the back of the body pressed against her.

 

Suddenly the mouth was on her nipple and the hand was stroking a soft line up and down her stomach.

 

The other hand left her hair and made a rapid descent to her hip, softly stroking every part of her body between the two areas before drawing a tantalising line between hip and belly button.

 

One finger scratched down slowly towards her centre and she arched herself up to meet it only to whine in disappointment as the contact was broken off.

 

The mouth on her breast also moved away and she raised her head in disappointment, trying so see what had happened. The hand which had been so close came up and caressed her jaw, pushing her head back down whilst a mouth kissed and licked a trail over her stomach leaving a trail of fire in it’s wake.

 

“Oh, my God!” Rachel cried as the mouth reached it’s destination.

 

Her hips raised off the bed to meet the soft lips that were pressing against her and she was rewarded with a tongue circling her clit with growing intensity.

 

“Nnn, fuuuck…”

 

Two hands grabbed her hips and steadied her as the tongue dropped down and licked up again.

 

“Oh, fuuuu...aaaahhh….”

 

Lips tightened around her clit, the tongue swiped, breath was sucked in and….

 

“Oh, fuck, Santana!”

 

And Rachel woke up, breathing hard.

 

“Oh, sweet….”

Trying to steady her breathing she wrapped her arms around her pillow and tried to conjure Finn’s face into her mind. When that didn’t work she tried to conjure up Brody.

 

Brody.

 

Letting out a shuddering sigh she resigned herself to the fact that there was only one face she would see tonight.

  
God, what is wrong with you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this is my first attempt at fanfic so please go easy. I would really appreciate any feedback.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5. Lima

 

Okay, she hated the fact that she could barely look Britt in the eye when they were folding laundry. She wasn’t lying when she said she liked only being a couple of hours away from her. She just…

 

She just didn’t know why any more.

 

Brittany was her best friend. She loved her. She always would. She just didn’t feel that spark anymore.

 

And she knew that Britt knew. She knew that she was hurting her, even before Britt’s freak out at Breadstix. She could see it all too well in those monster expressive blue eyes of hers.

 

And she didn’t know what to do about it.

 

Okay, maybe she did know what to do about it. She just really didn’t want to.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When she woke up the next morning she knew in her heart that she had to do it. They had spent hours talking after they got back from the restaurant and it had only served to solidify the icky, swirly mess that was her stomach when she thought of the way their relationship was going.

 

And now she just had to do it.

 

And there was only one place she could.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She walked away from the choir room and ran her fingers under her eyes to clear the tears. That had been, without a doubt, the hardest thing she had ever done. Harder than coming back to school after her outing, harder than sitting through that ass clenching, skin crawling, nightmare inducing screening of Run, Joey, Run, harder than being bottom of the pyramid, harder than any kind of interaction with Manboobs, harder than getting smacked down by Zizes. Hell, she would pay to get smacked down by that bitch right now.

 

She looked up and realised that she had walked to the Cheerios locker room. She smiled and shook her head sadly. She felt so lost and her feet had brought her here, of all places. It made sense, she supposed. She had hidden behind that damn Cheerios outfit for so long it was only natural for her to come crawling back here now. She realised that she was still hiding behind it. Sure, the colours were slightly different but the effect was the same. All people saw was a Cheerleader, and they formed their opinion of her based on that. And she went with it. She knew what people expected of her that way and she was happy to behave accordingly. In turn people didn’t dig any deeper and she could go about her life.

 

And she was fine with that.

 

She looked down the hallway as a door slammed and angry footsteps headed towards her. She pushed away from the wall she was leaning against in surprise as she saw Rachel striding towards her, arms folded across her chest and one hand swiping at her cheeks angrily.

 

“Yentl? What are you doing here?”

 

Rachel stopped short, gasping in surprise. “Santana? I…” She dropped her gaze to the side and strode passed Santana with renewed determination. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

Santana rolled her eyes and fell into step behind her. “Well good. I’m not really in the mood for one of your breathy and unbearably verbose monologues right now anyway. How about we just get drunk instead?”

 

Rachel spun around to face her with a look of such rage that Santana actually took a step back. “And I am not in the mood for you, Santana.” Rachel spat, poking her finger into Santana’s chest. “I am sick and tired of people dragging me into a place where I am that scared little girl that gets treated like dirt again and again and inexplicably keeps coming back for more like anything will change the second or third or fourteenth time you drop that goofy grin on me or look at me with those sad eyes and I turn into putty in your hands and let you back in just expecting all the problems to be fixed because I want them to be so bad!” At this point Rachel either noticed that she had backed Santana up against the wall or simply ran out of steam, and dropped her head into her hands and burst into tears.

 

After taking a couple of seconds to gather her wits Santana wrapped her arms around the other girl and rubbed her back while she calmed down. Rachel, surprisingly, melted into her embrace and sobbed against her shoulder.

 

Okay, this was weird.

 

And kind of nice.

 

And kind of freaking her out.

 

“So,” Santana started, giving Rachel what she hoped was a friendly pat on the back and not a slap. “Drink?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rachel laughed wildly and waved her empty tequila glass around her head.

 

“Woo! I love tequila!” She slammed the glass down on the table, her eyes gleaming.

“And it loves you right back, Berry.” Santana chuckled and passed her another shot. “Here. Courtesy of Rosario Cruz.”

 

“Who?”

 

“My fake ID.” Santana clarified, earning an appreciative grin from her friend.

 

“I’m having a really good time, Rosario, thank you.” Said Rachel, raising her eyes up to smile at her. “It’s really taken my mind off of...well, you know.”

 

“Yeah,” Santana answered quickly. “I know.”

 

Rachel continued smiling at her with a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment.

 

“Now come on, Berry.” She slid the salt and lemon across the table. “Tequila waits for no man!”

 

“Well then, it’s a good job I’m a hobbit.” Rachel snarked, winking and putting the salt on her hand.

 

Santana smirked and followed suit. “Good point. But drink.”

 

“Cheers.”

 

They chinked glasses and grabbed for the lemon, slamming the glasses down at the same time.

 

“Urgh,” Rachel blanched. “That one I didn’t care for so much.”

 

“Well, fifth times the charm.” Santana replied, smiling softly. She hadn’t expected Rachel to drink so much. Especially after what happened at Nationals. She felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her and tried to distract herself by people watching. There wasn’t whole lot to be distracted by though, except the man who appeared to be touching himself in the corner and she really wasn’t that desperate. She returned her attention to Rachel and found her gazing at her expectantly.

 

“So you never told me what you were doing here, Santana.”

 

Santana smiled and shrugged in what she hoped was a carefree way. “You never asked.”

 

“True,” Rachel smiled back. “But I’m asking now.”

 

“Laundry.”

 

“Laundry?” Rachel raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “The don’t have laundry facilities in Louisville?”

 

“Yeah, but the water is Derby runoff and…” Santana huffed and leaned back. “It’s a thing. I like to do my laundry here.”

 

“Ah,” Rachel nodded and dropped her eyes. “So you can see Brittany.”

 

“Yeah. No. Whatever. Do you want another drink? I’m kinda thirsty.” Santana made to go to the bar.

 

“No, I…” Rachel stopped her quickly by putting her hand on her arm, then quickly pulled it back like she had been burned. “I better not. I have an early flight back tomorrow and I…”

 

“Yeah, no I get it.” Santana sank back into her seat. Shit. Her tequila buzz was wearing off already and she could hear weepy drunk Santana warming up in the wings. She was so not ready for that bitch to take centre stage.

 

“You get what?” Rachel quizzed, arms back folded across her chest.

 

“That you don’t want to get drunk with me after...well, last time.” Santana grabbed one of the empty shot glasses, willing there to be some leftover tequila in there to stave off the impending blubfest.

 

“I was actually going to say that I haven’t seen my parents yet.” Rachel replied levelly.

 

“Oh.” Well, this is awkward. Quick, do something. Anything! Santana stuck her tongue in the glass and licked the remaining tequila out of it.

 

Perfect. Juuuuuust perfect. You just brought up making a drunken pass at the girl you have tormented for the last three years and now you are licking out a shot glass right in front of her face. Bravo!

 

Weepy Santana prepared for her entrance…

 

And then Rachel took the shot glass off her and set it on the table.

 

“You really confused me, Santana.”

 

Santana’s heart clenched and her stomach dropped. She looked up at Rachel with a slight frown, really not understanding what was going on.

 

“At Nationals. When you…” Rachel cut off, dropping her gaze. “Well, when you...said that. And did that.” She pulled her hands off the table and dropped them into her lap. “You really confused me.”

 

“Wh…” Santana started, but finding her mouth as dry as a...something, probably a really offensive something and really not the point she should be focussing on right now, she swallowed thickly and tried again. “What do you mean, I confused you?”

 

“Because I’m not…” Rachel threw her hands up and let out an exasperated sign. “You know. I’m not… I don’t like…”

 

“Me?”

 

“No! Yes. No, not you, just...you know?” Rachel sighed softly and leaned on the table. “I’m not gay.”

 

“But your Dads are gay.”

 

“So?” Rachel spat, her eyes jerking back up to meet Santana’s angrily. “That doesn’t make me gay, Santana, you of all people should know that.”

 

“No, no,” Santana quickly interjected, reaching across to take Rachel’s hand but thinking better of it. “I just meant...I mean… I thought that with your...you know, experience, if…” God, could she be making this any worse if she was seriously trying? Santana ran a hand through her hair and just came out with it. “That if a drunken lesbian made a pass at you, you would just brush it off, you know? Same as if a guy did.”

 

“But it wasn’t a drunken lesbian, Santana,” Rachel said quietly, not meeting her eyes. “And it wasn’t a guy. It was you.”

 

“But I don’t understand…”

 

“Do you know what, it doesn’t matter.” Rachel grabbed her bag and jumped off her stool. “It’s late, and I need to see my Dads.”

 

“It’s seven thirty.”

 

Rachel glared at her and started to leave. “Goodnight, Santana.”

  
And with that she was gone, leaving a very confused Santana in her wake.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6. New York

 

Rachel heaved a sigh of relief as she pulled the loft door shut. The journey back to New York had been awful, and not just because of the larger man with body odour and personal space issues who had been seated next to her on the flight. She could not stop thinking about the events of the last 24 hours and hoped that being home would settle her mind.

 

Home.

 

She smiled to herself as she glanced around the loft. This was her home. This was where she belonged, the trip back to Lima had only confirmed that.

 

She hadn’t known what she was going to do when she flew back there looking for Finn, she only knew she needed to talk to him. The last four months had been so confusing for her and she just couldn’t deal with it any more. She needed to know where they were, where they were going. And when she saw him on that stage and he had been so childish and patronising and out of touch with her in every way… In her heart she knew that it was just because he was so lost, but she just couldn’t keep going round in circles while he found himself. She had her own issues to deal with.

 

Which brought her to the next problem.

 

Santana.

 

She had been so shocked to see Santana there and briefly wondered if her angry and intense confrontation with Finn had sent her into some freefall through hell and dropped her back into high school, and when Santana had slipped back into her old role so easily Rachel had followed suit.

 

And then Santana had hugged her and everything had felt like it was going to be okay.

 

And then she had brought up Nationals.

 

Rachel had meant to just let it go. God, she should not be allowed to drink Tequila. Ever. But she was so confused and Santana was being so nice and…

 

“It was you.”

 

When she said those words all she had meant was that Santana wasn’t just some drunken lesbian, she was someone she had known for most of her life, someone who had spent most of high school making her life a misery and someone she had become inexplicably close to during their time in Glee. That it felt like there was more behind her actions and words than a drunken pass.

 

But it came out as…

 

Well, she didn’t know what it sounded like to Santana. All she knew was that when she had said those words something shifted in her brain and in her stomach and her confusion deepened and cleared all at the same time and then she had remembered the dream and she had to get out of there.

 

And she just wanted it to stop.

 

But it didn’t. All the way back to her father’s house in the cab it kept going round and round, an endless reel of images and thoughts of Santana. The look on her face when Rachel had told her she was confused, the devious twitch of her eyebrow when she had pushed that fifth shot at her, her hands running over her stomach, her lips on her jaw, kissing down her chest, her tongue running up her thigh…

 

By the time she arrived at her Dads house she had worked herself up into such a state that her Daddy asked if she was feeling okay and told her she was looking a little flushed. She lied and said she was fine and excused herself to go upstairs to use the bathroom. Pausing in front of her sink to steady her breathing she looked up at herself in the mirror and was somewhat alarmed to see that she was actually more than a little flushed and her eyes were so dark they looked almost black. She quickly splashed water on her face to calm herself down and went to fetch a new pair of underwear as she could feel that she was wetter than she had ever been in her life.

 

Now back in the safety of New York, Rachel sighed at the memory, pushed her hair off her face and headed into her room to get ready for class.

 

 

* * *

 

 

So, she had asked Brody to help her practice for her audition. This was good. She had spent the last two weeks obsessing over her breakup with Finn and her confusing feelings for Santana and when Brody had walked into dance class all that just fell away. She had found herself so pleased to see him that she felt lighter than she had done in months.

 

It was so simple. He wanted her, she wanted him, they were both single, so why not? She just wanted something fun and uncomplicated. And he flattered her and made her feel so special and sexy and he was so hot....

 

And he took her mind off the things she was exhausted with trying to process. She had spent the rest of the day with him and it was the first time since the break up that she hadn’t thought of Finn or Santana.

 

She had heard from Kurt that Brittany and Santana had broken up and gathered from what information they had that it had been the day that Rachel had met her in school. Now she felt even worse about the conversation they had had and wondered how she hadn’t picked up on the fact that Santana’s reticence to share her reasons for being home was more than just her being her usual taciturn self.

 

She had thought about calling her. She had thought about it and dismissed it. What would she say? They weren’t friends, not really, and if Santana had wanted to talk about it she would have done. And what would Rachel say anyway? “Hey, I am sorry you and Brittany broke up. I wish you had told me at the time so I hadn’t started up a conversation that would send my brain, heart and loins into a tailspin and ruin one of my favourite pairs of underwear.”

 

Great. Now here she was thinking about Santana again.

 

Sighing, she rolled over in her bed and grabbed her phone off her bedside table and texted Brody.

 

 

* * *

 

 

So Kurt had asked her to go back to Lima with him to see Grease. She really didn’t want to go but she had gotten all confused when Miss July had started being so nice to her and found herself agreeing to it.

 

So now she was going to Lima instead of spending the weekend with Brody preparing for her audition. What was she doing?

 

Still, Kurt needed her and she knew he was hurting so here she was, the dutiful best friend, packing to head back to the past once more.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7. Lima

 

So, Santana was back in Lima. Again.

 

Finnocence had called and practically begged her to come back and play Rizzo. It wasn’t as if she would have needed any extra incentive to play the part, she had pretty much modelled her entire persona on the character, but having Manboobs beg for it was a pretty big one.

 

And coming back to McKinley to help the old Glee club out of yet another Sue Sylvester devised travesty made for a welcome change to the tedium that was her life in Louisville. And she was really looking forward to seeing Brittany again. She knew she had made the right decision, but that didn’t stop her missing her.

 

She spotted Rachel in the audience as soon as she walked out on stage.

 

She hadn’t spoken to her since tequila night and she wasn’t prepared to see her here now. Thankfully she had her oversized sunglasses and badass bitch character to hide behind, and she was Santana Lopez after all.

 

This was what she did.

 

She killed the first act, obviously and had managed to keep her mind off of Berry, more or less. It wasn’t until Brittany’s bizarre pep talk that thoughts of Rachel took hold, because when Britt said that she should be thinking of something sad when she was singing it wasn’t their friday night dates that she thought of, it was Rachel’s face as she walked out of that bar.

 

“It was you.”

 

That was what she had said. Was Santana that bad? Was she such an awful person that Rachel would rather be hit on by literally any other person than her? Santana had barely made it out of the bar before her weepy alter ego had stormed the stage. Between the first and second acts she had managed to duck into the store and grab a bottle of bourbon before settling herself under a tree in the park.

 

That sentence had broken her. It had opened the floodgates and she was drowning in memories of Rachel. The way she had stood beside her and sung I Kissed a Girl marching down the hallways, the hug she gave her when the Troubletones came back to Glee, the way she looked when she was singing that sappy Without You song...God, Santana hadn’t been able to take her eyes off her. And she had had to make a really bitchy comment to counteract the swirling in her stomach as soon as Rachel stopped singing.

 

She remembered that week vividly because that was when all this shit had started in the first place. Whose stupid idea was it to pair her up with Berry to sing that stupid Rihanna song anyway? We Found Love in a Hopeless Place. She chuckled mirthlessly. If she could remember who it was they would definitely be getting a visit from Auntie Snix.

 

That was when she had first gotten to see the real Rachel, rehearsing that song with her all week. She had seen the work she put in in preparation for those seemingly effortless performances. They had been in that damn choir room all day and being so close to Rachel, staring into her eyes and singing those lyrics over and over again was really starting to do something to her. Then Rachel had tried to help her improve her technique and Santana had freaked out when she had slid behind her and pressed both her hands over her diaphragm.

 

“Watch it, man hands!”

 

“Santana, I am just trying to help.”

 

“Yeah, well, your version of helping feels a lot like trying to cop a feel so quit it, RuPaul, I’m not that gay.”

 

“Santana!” Rachel backed away from her, tears starting in her eyes. “That was really mean. I thought we were friends.”

 

“Yeah, whatever Berry.” Santana huffed, crossing her arms. “I’ve said plenty worse to you.”

 

“That doesn’t make it any better or hurt any less.” Rachel spat, slamming things around on top of the piano. “You can’t just lash out at people the whole time. People have feelings. I have feelings and I’m not here to be your personal punching bag whenever you are having a bad day.”

 

“Alright, I’m sorry. Jeez, Rach, you just caught me off guard is all.” Santana said softly, moving over to lean on the piano. “Come on, let’s go through the damn song again.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Santana composed herself and stepped out onto the stage for her solo. Raising her eyes to the audience for the first line she found herself staring straight at Rachel.

 

It felt right. She knew what Rachel thought of her, how disgusting she found her and it made Santana sad and pissed off in equal measure so she channelled that emotion into the song and used all the hurt and anger to her advantage. She couldn’t help but throw a cocky, quirked eyebrow Rachel’s way on the “trashy and no good” line, but her heart broke a little on “I suppose it could be true”. It wasn’t until the final line when she shifted her gaze to the wings and saw Britt staring back at her with that sad look on her face that she came back to herself.

 

What was happening to her?

 

 

* * *

 

 

The girls bathroom backstage was hell itself. They were all so excited and happy and loud. So loud. Santana couldn’t deal with it and made a break for the toilets near Figgins office. Grateful for the quiet she pushed open the door and walked in.

 

And saw Rachel leaning up against the sinks.

 

“Shit, Berry!” Santana swore, startled. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

 

“Nice to see you too, Santana.” Rachel spat, turning away slightly and brushing at her face.

 

Santana let the door swing shut behind her and took a tentative step towards her. “Are you okay?”

 

“I really don’t want to talk about it.”

 

“Yeah,” Santana chuckled. “That’s kind of becoming a theme.”

 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Rachel asked, rounding on her.

 

“Woah, calm the fuck down, Gidget. I was just talking about last time we met here! You know, when you had me up against the wall?”

 

“What?!” Rachel practically yelled, flushing a dark shade of pink.

 

“You know, with the pointing and the yelling and the going round in circles blah, blah, blah.” Santana folded her arms and leaned against the stalls. “And the crying.”

 

Rachel snorted, turning back to face the mirrors. “Yeah, funny how you always seem to be around for that.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Nothing. Forget it.”

 

“No, I won’t forget it.” Santana pushed herself away from the stalls angrily and stood next to Rachel at the sink. “Seems like every time I see you recently you lash out at me.”

 

“Santana, you’ve seen me twice since we graduated.”

 

“Yeah, so I’m like two for two. What’s up with you, Berry?”

 

“Nothing!” Rachel slammed her hands down on the sink. “I’m just tired and I just wish people would give me a break and stop assuming that they know everything about me!”

 

Santana could feel the anger coming off the other girl and it took the edge off her own. Hesitantly she reached her hand out and placed it on Rachel’s shoulder. “What’s going on?” She asked softly after a moment. “Talk to me.”

 

She could see Rachel struggling to control her breathing and assumed she was going to start crying again. What she didn’t expect was for Rachel to turn suddenly, push her back against the wall and kiss her.

 

Nope. Definitely not expecting that.

 

And oh, my God, could Rachel kiss. Santana could barely breath, she felt like every nerve ending had been doused in gasoline and her whole body thrown onto a bonfire. Rachel’s hands were in her hair and her body was pressed up against her.

 

Santana was just standing there.

 

Come on, Lopez, get it together!

 

Grappling back control of her body she slid her hands up Rachel’s back and softly dragged her fingernails down the length of it, causing Rachel to moan into her mouth and press her body deeper into Santana. Assuming this to be a good thing, and not an expression of boredom, Santana decided to continue in this vein and pulled back up, this time along Rachel’s sides. This caused Rachel to break the kiss and whimper into Santana’s ear which, aside from sending every bit of the tingly, bonfire energy straight down between her legs, gave her the opportunity to move her lips to Rachel’s jaw and throat.

 

Rachel slid her hands down Santana’s back and bit down gently on her earlobe.

 

Sweet Jesus.

 

Santana brushed her thumb up Rachel’s breast and connected with her pert nipple.

 

“Oh, God.” Rachel moaned. “Touch me.”

 

“What?” Santana breathed.

 

“Touch me.” Rachel whispered in her ear. “God, you were so good in that play. I am so wet right now.”

 

Oh my God. What the fuck was happening? Had Santana fallen asleep backstage?

 

Sensing her hesitation, Rachel grabbed Santana’s other hand and gently pushed it down between her legs.

 

“Oh, God.” Santana moaned into her neck. “Fuck, Rach…”

 

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” Rachel breathed. “I can’t stop and I don’t know why and...oh, fuck…”

 

Santana couldn’t stop her hand from sliding further down between Rachel’s legs. She could feel how wet she was even through her underwear. She had no idea what was going on and, even though she was dimly aware that this was a very bad idea, she didn’t care. Pushing her lips back up to meet Rachel’s again she slipped her hand into the other girls pants.

 

Fuuuuck. She had definitely not been lying. And she felt so good Santana could barely focus.

 

Rachel’s hands were everywhere, as if trying to ground herself. They were in Santana’s hair, scratching down her back, grabbing her ass, pulling on her shirt. And the noises she was making...God, Santana felt like she was melting.

 

And then the door banged open and two giggling teenagers waltzed in and ducked into the stalls.

 

Rachel and Santana froze.

 

Thankfully, they were pushed up against the wall behind the door so had been shielded from view when they came in. Santana brought up her free hand to cover her laugh. She had almost been caught having sex in her high school bathroom. Not that it was the first time but still…

 

Her laugh died in her throat when she saw the look on Rachel’s face. She looked stricken.

  
“Rach…” She started but Rachel just held her hand up and pulled away. She didn’t look back as she grabbed her purse off the counter and marched out into the corridor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all written as a sort of off camera companion to series 4 (and beyond) so obviously makes a lot of references to events that take place in the various episodes. I guess you'll get more out of it of you are really familiar with the series but I hope it's not too disjointed if you are not. Please give feedback if it is, all input is much appreciated.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8. New York

 

Oh God. Ohgodohgodohgod.

 

What the hell had she done? Groaning she pulled her pillow over her face and tried to squash the memory out of her brain.

 

She had fallen into a funk the minute she and Kurt had arrived in Lima, every sight and sound reminding her of what she had been through over the last few years, and everything she had been trying to forget. Then they had arrived at McKinley and it just seemed so small and alien to her, which only unsettled her more.

 

The show itself had been great. The new kids were very good, even if they did seem a bit like weird, fun house versions of the old gang. Which was probably why she had slipped into the strange fantasy version of the final song and imagined herself and Finn on stage. What was it about this auditorium and Finn?

 

So she escaped to the bathroom to call Brody and get her mind back on track, but that blonde bitch had answered the phone and revealed her psychotic little revenge ploy and Rachel had got so mad...

 

And when Santana had appeared, as if on cue, she was reminded yet again that no matter how hard she tried, no matter how many times she proved how good she was, there would always be people like Cassandra July and Santana Lopez there to beat her back down.

 

And then...God, and then.

 

Rachel honestly could not fathom why she had done it. Yes, she had been obsessing over the whole Santana...thing for weeks, but to act on it?

 

God, she felt so lost.

 

She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t talk to anyone about this. She would normally talk to her Dads, or Kurt, and she knew that they would be there for her but she just couldn’t. Why was it that the three closest people to her were all gay, yet the one thing she couldn’t talk to them about was...whatever this was?

 

And she knew she needed to talk to Santana. She just didn’t know how. What could she possibly say when she couldn’t even begin to process it herself?

 

Talk to me.

 

That was what she had said. If only she had just done that.

 

And then Finn had been there. Right outside the bathroom, like he was waiting for her. So close she was sure he could smell it on her. She had just wanted to run away. But he had started talking and trying to be nice and she had been drawn back in. And then came the spiel about how he knew her so well and making it all about him and about Brody and all she could think that Santana might walk out of that bathroom at any second and Finn would know.

 

She had heard her message alert as they climbed into the car but Kurt had been upset about Blaine and she ignored it, choosing to focus on Kurt’s issues for a while instead of her own. He stayed at her Dad’s house for a while and they talked until about midnight, when he wearily started to make his way back to his old home. As they hugged on her doorstep he told her she was right, they shouldn’t have come back.

 

Rachel agreed.

 

She had gone back upstairs after locking up, completed her nightly ritual with much less gusto than usual and settled herself into bed. Knowing she couldn’t put it off any longer she pulled out her phone, desperately hoping she would see Brody’s name on the message.

 

1 new message from Santana. Received 22.06.

 

_Are you okay?_

 

She just sat on her bed staring at it. No. No, she was not okay on an epic scale.

 

As she stared at the phone it buzzed in her hand, almost giving her a heart attack.

 

_Rach, please just let me know you’re alright._

 

Back in her bed in New York, Rachel replayed the memory over and over again. That had been two days ago. She still hadn’t answered.

 

She pulled the pillow off her face and reached for her phone on the bedside table.

 

After rereading and changing her message approximately 35 times she finally managed to send it.

 

_Hello Santana. I apologise for taking so long to respond to your message. I am fine, I am sorry if I caused you any concern. Please understand that my delay was due in part to my embarrassment over my actions. I am afraid I was a little overwrought the night of the play and unfortunately you arrived at a rather inopportune moment. I am so sorry for what I did. I should have talked to you like you asked. Please accept my apology? Rachel._

She sat there staring at her phone for what seemed like an hour. She was so nervous. Why was she nervous? Santana wouldn’t care. Santana never cared, particularly when it came to her. She couldn’t just sit here waiting, she had things to do. She threw her phone back on the bed and went for a shower.

 

An hour later, as she was getting dressed, her message alert chimed across the room and she rushed to check it, heart pounding.

 

_Whatever, Berry, no big deal. Just glad you’re okay._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kurt kept looking at her. It was annoying. She was trying to concentrate on...whatever this godawful TV show they were watching was.

 

“Rach, are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine.” She lied, smiling across at him. “Just tired. And this show is awful.”

 

“I know that. But you have the remote and I figured you must be enjoying it as we are still watching it.” He sighed and reached across to pluck the remote out of her hand. When she didn’t put up a fight his eyes narrowed. “Okay, that’s it. The Rachel Berry I know would never give up control so easily. What’s with you? Is it Finn?”

 

“No!”

 

“Brody?” Kurt wasn’t giving up. She knew that look in his eye.

 

“No. Kurt, it’s nothing.”

 

“Miss July?”

 

“NO.” Actually, that would be easier to talk about and would get her mind off of Santana for a while. “Okay, yes. She slept with Brody.”

 

“Shut up!” Immediately Kurt was bolt upright and shutting the TV off. “What? When? Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

Rachel shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t really know what to say. I mean, it’s not like we were dating or anything.”

 

“When did this happen?”

 

“When we went back to Lima. She gave us the tickets so she could teach me a lesson.”

 

“That psychotic bitch!” Kurt jumped up and ran to the kitchen. “When did you find out?”

 

“That night. I rang him after Grease and she answered.” She replied, gratefully accepting the glass of wine that he passed her.

 

“She answered?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“Where was he?”

 

“In the shower.”

 

“Oh my God,” Kurt drawled, flopping back down onto the couch next to her. “Could this be any more cliche?”

 

“Kurt!” Rachel cried, slapping his leg. “This is my life, not some stupid show!”

 

“Aw, I know, honey.” He pulled her into a hug and rubbed her back. “I’m sorry.”

 

She sighed and relaxed into his hug. This was good. She had needed this. She was afraid that she might start to cry as she realised how much she had needed this.

 

“You should have told me, Rachel.” Kurt said, obviously picking up on her shift in mood. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

 

And Rachel started to cry.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She really didn’t want to go back to Lima for Thanksgiving. Thankfully Kurt had agreed to stay with her when she suggested it. All the Glee seniors had arranged to meet up but Rachel just couldn’t face it. Hopefully they would all just assume it was about Finn, and obviously part of it was, but she just wasn’t ready to face Santana. Especially not in front of all of them.

 

She hadn’t told Kurt about it. She had cried and cried that night and he had comforted her, obviously knowing that there was a lot more going on than she was telling him but he didn’t push and she had never loved him more.

 

She had totally blown her audition for The Glass Menagerie but honestly her head was not in the right place. Also, the director had kind of freaked her out. Not that she would be letting her bitch dance teacher know that any time soon.

 

And now she had made up with Brody, even though he was an arrogant ass. But she had to agree that what he said had made sense and he was cooking for them on Thanksgiving so…

 

All in all she felt a lot better than she had done in months.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9. Lima

 

Thanksgiving.

 

Here she was. Back in Lima. Again. Seriously, she didn’t know why she had bothered going back to Kentucky in the first place. If she hadn’t thought she would lose her scholarship if she missed one more practice she wouldn’t have bothered. She seriously did not feel right there.

 

But now she was back, and she was here with her friends.

 

She wasn’t sure when she had begun to think of these people as her friends. Sure, there was always Britt, and Puck, well she supposed “friends” was one way of describing their weird, twisted relationship. Quinn had also always been there, and when they weren’t slapping each other and stealing each other’s boyfriends she supposed they had got along well enough, and she’d rather have the bitch by her side than lining up against her. And she’d missed her, alright? Don’t judge. Mike she had always liked. Not that she had let him know that, obviously. Mercedes? No clue when that had turned into a friendship.

 

And then there was Finn. The less said on that subject the better. Besides, she had barely had a chance to miss that big, stupid lump with him on the phone to her every five minutes begging for her help.

 

She had had a great time catching up with them all at Breadstix. She was sad that Britt hadn’t been there, though. She didn’t really understand the reasoning behind it either, but the blonde had given her decision in a tone that brooked no argument so Santana had let it go.

 

The only other awkward moment, aside from Puck’s tale about the two girls and the cup, was the Rachel conversation. Santana honestly didn’t know why she had brought it up and it hurt her to know that Rachel was in contact with Quinn and not with her. Not that she particularly wanted to be in contact with Rachel at this moment. She had honestly felt sick at the prospect of seeing her again.

 

But now she was happily drunk and safely ensconced in Puck’s basement.

 

“Well how the hell did you get out of that?” Puck laughed at her tale about her Professor's drunk wife.

 

“I did what I always do,” Santana shrugged. “I lied and then told her her ass looked great in that dress. Flattery. Works every time.”

 

“Smooth.”

 

“You know me, Puck,” She smirked over her drink. “Golden tongue.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure a few ladies can vouch for that!”

 

“Oh yeah. You know it baby.”

 

Puck laughed again and took a swig of his drink. “So go on.”

 

“Um, Daryl Hannah, Lucy Liu, Uma Thurman.” Puck raised an eyebrow. “No, Puckerman, these are not ladies who can vouch for my golden tongue.”

 

“Ha! Okay, is it Daryl Hannah now or in Splash?”

 

“All contenders enter the competition at their peak. You may decide when that is.” Santana announced gravely over her drink.

 

“That’s tough. I’m going with...Marry, fuck, kill. Daryl is hot. Lucy Liu is hotter but she plays bitch roles.”

 

“That’s what’s so great about her! Definitely fuck, marry, kill. Although, change it to Drew Barrymore, Lucy Liu, Cameron Diaz then the situation changes dramatically.”

 

“Ooh,” Puck suddenly sprang to attention. “Charlie’s Angels. Definitely kill, marry fuck.”

 

Santana nearly choked on her drink. “Excuse me, did you just kill my future wife?”

 

“Drew Barrymore?” Puck raised an eyebrow at her. “Really?”

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing. Just not who I imagined badass Lopez having a lady boner for.”

 

“What can I say, I have eclectic tastes.”

 

“Does that mean weird?” She threw a cushion at him which he blocked easily with his arm. He took a swig on his beer and leaned back. “I missed you, San.”

 

“Oh, God. You’re not gonna get all weepy on me are you, Puckerman?”

 

“Nah, that’s your job after a few more shots.”

 

She laughed and kicked out at his leg. “Do you hear from any of them?”

 

“Yeah, sometimes. I hang out with Mercedes a lot so I get most of the gossip from her. And I talk to Finn all the time.”

 

“How’s he doing? You know. About the, ah, Rachel. Thing.”

 

Puck stood up to get more drinks. “You know, to the casual observer this could sound like you actually cared.”

 

“Pfft. Please. I have far too much going on in my life to care about his sorry ass.”

 

“Oh yeah? I thought you hated Kentucky.”

 

“I do. See? I have that whole mess of crap to care about.”

 

“What else?” Puck handed her her drink and sat down next to her. “Come on, Lopez, I’ve known you too long and seen you in way too many compromising positions to not be able to tell when something is up with you.”

 

Santana snorted and turned away, suddenly extremely grateful for the drink in her hand.

 

“Come on, dude, spill. Why’d you get so weirded out when they were all talking about it at Breadstix?”

 

“What? No I didn’t!”

 

“Did something happen between you?”

 

“Ah, Puck, you might have noticed from our earlier conversation....I’m a lesbian.”

 

“I’m not talking about Finn, Santana.”

 

Santana’s heart just about stopped.

 

“Berry?” She managed to get out, a couple of beats too late. “You’re talking about Berry? That’s just…”

 

“Come on, man, I saw the way you were on the trip back from Chicago. You could barely look at each other. And not in the usual fun way.”

 

“Nothing happened in Chicago.”

 

Puck was silent. She hated silent Puck. She knew he was getting ready to drop the bomb and she couldn’t handle it. Her chest was so tight. Why was there no air in this room? She took a long drink and tried to calm her heart down. She wasn’t prepared for this conversation. She wasn’t fucking ready.

 

“So what happened after?”

 

There it was. Santana couldn’t breathe. “Please, Puck. Drop it.”

 

“Alright. But we both know that you haven’t had enough of those to make you do that.” He gestured to her drink and the tear sliding silently down her face.

 

Santana shook her head and swiped uselessly at her cheek. God, how was this happening to her? How had she ended up crying over Rachel fucking Berry?

 

Puck knocked something against her hand and when she looked down and saw the shot of tequila she broke.

 

 

* * *

 

 

After Rachel ran out of the bathroom Santana slid into the last stall and sat down. What the fuck had just happened? If she didn’t have Rachel’s scent all over her hand she would quite easily put it all down to being some kind of weird post performance mental break.

 

Rachel Berry had pushed her up against a wall, kissed her and put her hand between her legs. Rachel Berry, who not two weeks earlier had made out like she was disgusted by her. Rachel Berry, who Santana had not been able to stop thinking about for months. Rachel Berry, who looked absolutely horrified when she realised what she was doing.

 

And then she left.

 

Santana could not believe she had let herself think, even for a second, that Rachel liked her. That Rachel could want her, find her attractive. She was so stupid. She felt the tears start to fall down her face and angrily tried to wipe them away, only to have Rachel’s scent mount a fresh assault on her senses as she remembered where her hand had been five minutes ago.

 

“Chinga!” She swore as she jumped up and yanked the door open to get to the sink. One of the teenagers who had barged in yelped and jumped out of the way. “What?!” She yelled, causing the girls to make a break for the door.

 

Santana poured soap into hand and scrubbed it under the faucet until she couldn’t see for the tears and sank down onto the floor.

 

What was she doing? What was Rachel doing? She had seemed really upset when Santana had arrived and she really had just wanted to help her. But then the kissing had happened and, as usual, Santana didn’t say no. And now Rachel was God knows where thinking God knows what and Santana could have stopped it. Should have stopped it.

 

She pulled out her phone and pulled up Rachel’s number. Her hand hovered over the call button. She didn’t know what to do. Rachel might not want to talk to her. After a few moments of deliberation she tapped out a message instead.

 

Are you okay?

 

Please let her respond.

 

Three hours later Santana was lying in bed, still waiting for a response. She knew this was fucked now, that Rachel would probably never talk to her again but she still wanted to make sure she was alright. It was definitely too late to call now so she settled for another message and lay back down.

 

She was still awake when the sun came up so she just grabbed her stuff and headed back to Kentucky.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“So?” Puck asked, handing her another shot. “What happened? Did she reply?”

 

“Oh, she replied.” Santana scoffed, knocking back the shot before pulling out her phone. “Two days later she sent me this.”

 

Puck read the message through and handed her back the phone, his eyes soft.

 

“Dude. I’m so sorry.”

 

Santana tried to pull her face into a ‘what can you do?’ smile and failed miserably as Puck pulled her into a hug and rubbed her back as she fell apart on his shoulder.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10. New York

 

Rachel Berry was on top of the world. She had just won the NYADA Winter Showcase. She had known in her gut that her performance would be her best, but to win the whole thing? It had never been done by a freshman before. The whole thing was like a dream.

 

And she had Brody.

 

When she saw him before her performance she had felt all her panic wash away and she had realised that he was exactly what she needed. There was no confusion with Brody. From the first moment she had met him he had been completely honest with her, letting her know exactly how he felt for her and that those feelings were good. Very good. He made her feel special. He made her feel beautiful and talented and...safe.

 

So she kissed him. If he could be honest, so could she. She was single, she was in New York, she was about to perform in the most prestigious competition of her life, and she wanted him.

 

When she came off stage after her encore she stood between him and Kurt and listened as Madame Tibideux said those wonderful words and realised her life was perfect.

 

 

* * *

 

 

As Rachel ended her call with Finn she couldn’t help but think of Santana. She had never been close to Santana at school, the girl had been downright cruel to her for most of it, but she was still a part of their Glee family. Sure, her part could most obviously be compared to that of the crazy bitch aunt who flew in for special occasions, got drunk and insulted everyone before staggering off in a weepy mess, but she was still there. And in the end she would have fought for every single one of them.

 

She realised suddenly that she wanted to speak to her.

 

She dialled her number.

 

It rang for long enough that she expected it to go to voicemail and she was just about to hang up when she heard Santana’s voice.

 

“...Hello?”

 

“Hi Santana.” Rachel pulled the phone back up her ear so quickly that she nearly knocked herself out. “It’s Rachel.”

 

“I see that, Berry. My phone has this new fangled invention called a contact list.”

 

“Oh. Of..of course.” Well, this was going well. “So what am I saved under? Hobbit? Yentl? Please don’t say manhands…”

 

She heard Santana chuckle softly on the end of the line. “No, Berry. Just Rachel.”

 

“Oh.” Rachel didn’t know how she felt about that.

 

“What am I under? Satan? Bitchface the wonder cunt?”

 

“Santana! That is disgusting!”

 

Santana full on laughed this time. “So that’s a no then?”

 

“No!” Rachel huffed. “I would have thought you knew me well enough by now to know that I would never use such disgusting and offensive terms, especially not in such a permanent setting where anyone could view them.”

 

“Woah, Berry, calm yourself! I apologise.”

 

Rachel was genuinely shocked. “What?”

 

“Clearly I have offended you, so I apologise profusely and without reserve for my vulgarity.”

 

“Well, I appreciate the sentiment, if not the mocking tone.” Rachel conceded, rolling her eyes.  “So thank you. Your apology is accepted.”

 

“Why thank you, Miss Berry.” Santana drawled. “So...what’s up?”

 

“What’s up?”

 

“Yeah, why the call?”

 

“Oh. Um, no reason. I just...wanted to hear your voice.” What? Come on, Rachel. “I mean, it’s nearly Christmas and I haven’t really been very good at staying in touch and I just thought that maybe I should give you a call and catch up and see…”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Santana interrupted, thankfully because she had no idea where the sentence was going. “I miss you too, Berry.”

 

Rachel smiled.

 

“So,” Santana said after a beat. “You back home for Christmas?”

 

“No, I’m going on a cruise with my Dads.” A gay cruise, but Rachel wasn’t about to admit that to Santana. “You?”

 

“Yeah. Although I seem to be back there so often it’s not really that big of a deal.”

 

“Santana, it’s Christmas! Of course it’s a big deal!”

“Said the Jew…”

 

Rachel rolled her eyes again. “Just because I don’t celebrate the holiday personally it doesn’t mean I don’t get caught up in the excitement of the season. There are all the parties and the music and the decorations…”

 

“And the shopping for all the lame gifts for people you hate…”

 

“Santana, I refuse to believe you are this much of a Grinch.”

 

“Ha!” Santana laughed down the phone. “All the mean shit I have done over the years and this is where you draw the line? Christmas?”

 

“Yes, absolutely.” Rachel smiled. “I have seen you at Christmas, remember? When we used to decorate the choir room you would be grinning from ear to ear, and singing along to all the cheesy songs, and don’t think I didn’t notice your festive socks…”

 

“Alright, alright, alright,” Santana cut her off. “I love it, okay? And I am already ridiculously excited and may possibly be wearing festive socks...and underwear as we speak but if you repeat this to anyone I will end you, okay Rachel?”

 

“Okay!” Rachel smiled softly to herself. “And how is Kentucky at Christmastime?”

 

“Lame.” Santana deadpanned. “It’s the same shithole is usually is, just now it looks like drunk Christmas staggered in and threw up all over it. I bet New York is amazing?”

 

“It really is. I wish you could see it.”

 

“Well, maybe I will someday.” There was a lot of commotion going on at Santana’s end of the line. Rachel heard what she assumed was Santana’s hand covering the microphone and some muffled shouting.

 

“Santana?” More muffled shouting, and as Santana’s hand was removed she definitely heard some Spanish curse words.

 

“Ah, Rach, I’m going have to go. My idiot roomate just got back drunk as hell and just took out half our room in what looked like a clumsy attempt to mount the wall.”

 

“Um, okay.” Rachel was a little disappointed. “Well, good luck with that. We’ll talk soon, okay?”

 

“Yeah, definitely. Enjoy your cruise.”

 

“Thanks, enjoy your...festive underwear.”

 

“Oh, I will,” Santana chuckled softly. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

 

Rachel smiled. “Yours too. Merry Christmas, Santana.”

 

“Merry Christmas, Rach.”

 

Rachel smiled as she disconnected the call. She felt great. Winter Showcase, Brody, and now she had made things right with Finn and hopefully helped him out, and managed to talk to Santana without them fighting or saying anything...inappropriate. Although she was trying to picture Santana’s festive underwear…

  
Rachel shook her head softly and bounced into the kitchen for a glass of wine. In the end she grabbed the bottle and headed into Kurt’s room.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11. Kentucky

 

Santana was drunk. She knew this for two reasons. One, her idiot roommate was actually making her laugh. Two, she was beating someone at pool. She very rarely played pool because she wasn’t a fan of losing, but Jess (the idiot roommate) had insisted that they play doubles and threatened to start removing items of clothing unless she agreed. Having lived with the girl for four months and been out drinking with her on several occasions she knew that this was no idle threat. Sure, it had been amusing the first four or six times, and the girl had nice boobs, but it really wasn’t worth the weepy aftermath that Santana was invariably forced to deal with. Plus, there were only so many times you could get thrown out of a place before they stopped letting you back in.

 

So here she was, nearing the end of her twenty minute drunken window where she became a pool goddess, and they were kicking ass. Well, she was kicking ass. Jess was mostly using the pool cue as a makeshift pole to dance around which, since she could barely stand, was producing some comical results.

 

Their opponents were unfortunately not quite as amused with her antics and seemingly less amused by being beaten by Santana, who they had assumed to be similarly inebriated. She supposed that the way she was dressed had also given them the wrong (well, usually quite correct, but she wasn’t about to tell them that) impression of her pool skills. She was wearing a black dress that was so tight it looked painted on and it stopped just north of mid thigh. She had made her own assumptions about the two ladies she was playing based on their plaid shirt and jean combos and decided to treat them to a little show as she potted the black, just to soften the blow of course.

 

She slowly bent down over the table to line up the shot, using her left hand to push the hair out of her face as she did so. She let her hand drop slowly down her neck and brush across her chest before resting it on the table. One of her opponents was standing directly in front of her and Santana smirked when the woman’s eyes followed the movement of her hand until she was looking straight down the front of her dress. Lining up the cue Santana looked back over her shoulder to her other opponent and slowly moved her ass from side to side. The woman didn’t even notice Santana was looking she was so enthralled by the movement. Satisfied, Santana turned her attention back to the table and took the shot.

 

“Pay up, ladies!” She trilled, holding out her hand.

 

Cutting her eyes at her like she just got hustled, ass lady grudgingly slapped a twenty into her hand. “Rematch?”

 

“Aw, sweetie, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Santana smiled. “You probably play better when you are looking at the table.”

 

Smiling again at the other woman’s blush Santana strolled off to the bar, making sure to put an extra bit of movement into her hips.

 

She leaned over the bar and ordered drinks for her and Jess feeling very pleased with herself. If she could learn to extend her window a bit she would probably feel right at home being a hustler.

 

“That was quite a show.”

 

Santana turned and looked at the woman next to her. She had short, messy brown hair and bright green eyes, and she was giving her the sexiest smirk she had ever seen.

 

“Thanks.” Santana smirked back. “I’m not sure they were too impressed.” She nodded over to the two women setting up the next game and glaring at her.

 

“Oh, believe me, they were.” The woman laughed. “They’re just sore losers. But they definitely enjoyed the show.”

 

She had this sexy Kentucky drawl working for her. And Santana usually hated the accent, it made most people sound incredibly stupid.

 

“I’m Jo.” The woman said, offering her hand.

 

“Santana.”

 

“I thought you were called Rosario?” The barman winked, returning with her drinks.

 

“Oh, I...uh...middle name.” Santana muttered.

 

“I’m messing with ya, darlin.” He smirked, taking her money and walking over to the register.

 

“Oops,” Jo smirked. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get you busted.”

 

“Pfft,” Santana waved off the apology. “I’m pretty sure he already knew.” She pulled out her obviously fake ID and showed it to the other girl, who laughed.

 

“It’s a good job you’re gorgeous.” She said, handing it back. “That is one of the worst I have ever seen.”

 

“What can I say, Lima is not the place for quality.”

 

Jo tilted her head to the side and gave Santana a look. “I wouldn’t say that.”

 

Santana could feel her blush everywhere. Everywhere. She smiled and took a sip of her drink to hide her embarrassment.

 

“Your friend seems to be having a good time.” Jo nodded across the bar.

 

Santana followed her direction and nearly choked on her drink. Jess had her arms around the neck of the tallest man Santana had ever seen and was on his back with her legs wrapped round his waist.

 

“Sweet Jesus,” Santana muttered, debating whether or not to go over. “She, ah, she has a thing about tall men. She says she likes to climb them. Like a jungle gym.”

 

Jo laughed at that. “Well, she’s certainly trying. How about you?”

 

“Me? I don’t...climb.”

 

Jo smiled. “No, I meant what do you like?”

 

Santana smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

 

“Yeah,” Jo replied, holding her gaze. “I would.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

So that was how Santana found herself doing the walk of shame back to her dorm at 9 o’clock the next morning. Not that she was ashamed. She was exhausted, her hair was a mess and she was grinning like an idiot. And she didn’t care. She didn’t feel guilty, worried, confused. She wasn’t thinking about Brittany, whether or not she was doing okay. She wasn’t think about college, about how much it sucked. She wasn’t thinking about Rachel,  remembering how hurt she had been by their last encounter. She wasn’t thinking about their Christmas phone call, about what it meant, about what the random text conversations since meant. She just wasn’t thinking. She just didn’t care. About anything. She was just...free.

 

It was so nice to have her brain just be quiet for once and, after that last orgasm, she was sure her brain would not be waking up for a good few hours.

 

She jumped in the shower, pleased that Jess was still out with Jungle Jim, and just enjoyed the water washing over her.

 

She honestly couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so relaxed.

  
  


 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12. New York

 

Brody stayed over.

 

She was grinning like an idiot. Really, she needed to pull herself together. She had an audition this week for a student film and she really didn’t want to show up bouncing around like a schoolgirl.

 

But everything just felt so right with Brody. There was no drama, it was fun and easy. She didn’t have to try with him. She could just be.

 

They went all over the city together. They saw shows and movies, they ate in tiny, romantic restaurants, they strolled through the city hand in hand, ducked into dusty bookshops and hidden antique stores. It was perfect.

 

And then he was late.

 

Rachel sat at the kitchen table for 45 minutes waiting for him, stewing over everything, analysing every moment they had had, basically driving herself insane. This was exactly what she didn’t need. She wanted simple and straightforward, someone who would be there for her all the time, not just when they wanted to be.

 

But then he arrived and, as usual, said all the right things. So she asked him to move in.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“What?!” Kurt shrieked.

 

“It’s a good thing, Kurt.” Rachel offered him a glass of wine to calm him down. “Think how much money we’ll save!”

 

“Rachel, you’ve been dating him for about 5 minutes. We barely know him!” Kurt slammed the wine down angrily. “Are you a lesbian?”

 

Rachel choked on her wine. “What?”

 

“Well, you’re acting like one. You can’t just ask someone to move in with you when you have been dating for two weeks. And after the turkey basting debacle at Thanksgiving…” Kurt took a sip of his wine and leaned against the counter.

 

“Look, Kurt, I realise that you are upset and I should have asked you first but I really want this. I may have only been officially dating Brody for a short while but I have known him since I moved to the city and he is a really good guy.” Rachel paused for breath. “Please say you’re okay with this?”

 

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Well, it looks like I don’t have much of a choice, doesn’t it? And I suppose his rent money will come in handy.”

 

“Oh, thank you Kurt!” Rachel squealed, grabbing him into a hug. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!”

 

“Just promise me no cats.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rachel was freaking out. She had got the part in the student film and now she was freaking out.

 

She was going to be topless. On film. Captured forever.

 

She could do this. This wasn’t so bad. It was just breasts. Her breasts. Her bare breasts. On film.

 

She had freaked out so badly that she had had some weird and, frankly, insulting conversation with her high school self and then sang a duet. That part was great. She wished she could always duet with herself.

 

She looked at herself in the glass of their building’s front door. She really did need to do something with her hair…

 

Suddenly the door was yanked open and she was face to face with Robin, their hipster neighbour with the weird moustache.

 

“Hi Rachel,” he drawled. “You forget your keys?”

 

“No, I was just thinking. Robin, do I have pornstar hair?”

 

“What?” He chuckled, holding the door open for her.

 

“Thankyou,” Rachel said, sliding passed him into the hallway. “My hair. Is it too much?”

 

“I don’t think so.” He looked confused. “Are you...trying for pornstar hair?”

 

“God, no.” Rachel rolled her eyes and checked their mail box. “I just had a really weird conversation today with...well, never mind.”

 

“Rachel, your hair is lovely.” He smiled easily. “And pornstars tend to be a little more...well, naked. Than you.”

 

Rachel blushed.

 

“Anyway, could you ask Kurt if I could borrow his Russian hat?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

After Quinn and Santana’s surprise visit, awkward intervention and pleasing sing-a-long session in NYADA’s small theatre Rachel took them out to dinner at a tiny little Italian restaurant she had had her eye on for a few weeks.

 

The food was delicious and spending an evening with the two girls who made most of her high school life a living hell surprisingly good fun.

 

“Quit it, Fabray.” Santana scoffed, picking up her wine glass. “There’s no way I am apologising.”

 

“You slapped me!”

 

“You slapped me first, blondie.” At that Santana turned to Rachel. “It was like a full on ninja slap, came out of nowhere. Wa-tssshh!”

 

“You were being a total bitch, S.” Quinn crossed her legs and took a sip of wine, narrow eyes burning into Santana.

 

“Oh, like you weren’t? Jealous of you? Please.”

 

“Whatever, Kentucky.”

 

“Ladies, please,” Rachel interrupted, trying to control her laughter. “As amusing as all this is, for me at least,” she corrected as two death stares were suddenly pointed her way. “I think it would be prudent to bring the conversation back into safer territory.”

 

“Like your tits?” Santana smirked.

 

“Santana!”

 

“Agreed.” Quinn said, leaning forward and raising her glass. “To Berry’s tits. Long may they remain covered.”

 

“Hear, hear.” Santana chimed, grinning at Rachel.

 

Rachel tried to frown and failed, raising her glass to join them.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Quinn had to get the last train home so Rachel and Santana walked her to the station and waved her off.

 

“So,” Santana turned stiffly to Rachel, hands stuffed in her pockets. “Drink?”

 

“Sure. There’s a great little bar right around the corner from the loft.”

 

“Excellent.”

 

The started walking down the street towards the subway.

 

“So, are you glad you didn’t do it?” Santana asked.

 

“Yes,” Rachel breathed. “Sooo glad. Thank you so much for talking me out of it. Brody was all for it, saying I shouldn’t be ashamed of my body and that we’re actors, and our body is our...canvas and paints or something? I don’t know. I mean I would. Eventually. But you were right. It’s a student film. And it sucks.”

 

Santana chuckled. They walked in silence for a minute or two.

 

“Brody?”

 

“Oh.” Rachel had forgotten to tell Santana about him. “Brody is my, ah, boyfriend.” She pulled her scarf a little tighter round her neck and headed down to the subway.

 

“Oh.” Santana shook her head slightly. “Cool.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Nice place.” Santana looked around, nodding her head appreciatively.

 

The bar was in a basement. It had little fairy lights hung up around it’s white walls and little rounded booths all around the perimeter. She and Rachel had slid into one of these with their drinks and dumped their coats down next to them. The music was soft and chilled out. It was very...cosy.

 

“Yes, I love it here.” Rachel beamed. “It’s exactly what I imagined when I pictured myself in New York.”

 

“Well, it fits you perfectly.” Santana smiled back easily.

 

Things between them had changed since their Christmas phone call. Santana has texted her on Christmas day and Rachel had texted her on New Years. Since then they had messaged back and forth every few days, little bits of something and nothing, definitely not anything pertaining to the three encounters they had had. This evening felt different somehow, easier, like they might be able to get passed it.

 

“Can I ask you something?” Santana frowned slightly at Rachel’s question but nodded her head as she sipped her drink. “Why didn’t you make her take it down? I mean Brittany. The sex tape.”

 

“I did.” Santana smiled. “And she did. Almost immediately, in fact. But people had already downloaded it, and when it was removed they reposted it, and then more people downloaded and reposted and...well, it’s like I was trying to tell you, Rach. Once it’s out there, it’s out there. You know?”

 

Rachel looked surprised. “I guess I never realised it would happen so fast. I mean, no offence Santana, but you’re hardly Kim Kardashian.”

 

Santana choked on her drink. “Thank God, that woman is a total ass.”

 

Rachel laughed. “You know what I mean.”

 

“I do. But let’s face it, Rach. At school I sort of was. Anything and everything I did there was snapped up immediately. Same for you.”

 

“Hardly.” Rachel scoffed.

 

“Yes it was. Okay, mainly cos Jewfro had that weird stalkerish obsession with you but still. Those things that got written about us at high school are still out there somewhere, ready to be dug back up and thrown at us at a moments notice.” Santana leaned back in the booth looking mildly upset.

 

“I guess I never really thought about it.” Rachel said after a moment.

 

“Yeah, well maybe you should. You’re the one who is going to be famous after all.” Santana said before taking a large gulp of her drink.

 

Rachel smiled and looked up at her shyly. “You say it like it’s a fact.”

 

“That’s because it is.” Santana leaned across the table and took her hand in both of hers. “You, Rachel Berry, are a star. And some day soon the right people are going to notice that and you will never look back.”

 

Santana pressed her lips to Rachel’s hand before heading over to the bar to get them some refills.

  
Rachel sat and stared after her, a warm feeling spreading through her body.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13. New York

 

Santana woke up with a sharp pain in her neck and a feeling like someone was drilling into her brain. She tried to groan but all that came out was a slight rasp. Water. She needed water. She rolled over to reach for the bottle on her nightstand and shrieked in surprise as she fell to the floor.

 

Winded, she lay there in a tangled heap and tried to work out why she was on the floor. Slowly she opened one eye and tried to take in her surroundings.

 

“Morning sunshine.” An effeminate voice trilled from behind her.

 

She heard the rush of the faucet and clambered her way back on to the couch as Kurt sashayed over with a glass of water. She thrust out both hands in front of her towards this mirage of hope, her face scrunched up in pain and need. Why was he taking so long?

 

“Thirsty?” He asked. He was deliberately slowing down now. She knew she would have to kill him. Just give her a minute.

 

She nodded her head pitifully and he handed her the water before backing off to a safe distance. She gulped it down like she would die if she didn’t. She actually felt like she might die if she didn’t.

 

“Oh, God.” She panted once she had drained the glass.

 

“Good night?” Kurt asked, reaching over to retrieve the glass and going to refill it. God bless that boy.

 

“Uhn.” She groaned. “I honestly have no idea.” Speaking made her face hurt and she rubbed her hand over her temple, alarmed to find a lump at the edge of her eye socket. “Why does my face hurt? Did I fall?”

 

“Um,” Kurt handed her another glass of water and once again retreated. “You may have, um, face planted into the sofa.”

 

“What?” Too loud, Santana. Too loud. “Oh...aspirin?” She whispered.

 

Kurt chuckled softly and headed into the bathroom.

 

So, she was in New York. She obviously remembered coming to New York. She remembered staging the boobgate intervention. She remembered singing a song with Berry and Quinn at NYADA which felt entirely inappropriate to Rachel’s situation but definitely relevant to something, almost to the point it felt like Quinn was intruding…

 

She remembered dinner and walking Quinn to the station, She remembered heading to the subway and Rachel telling her about...Oh, fuck…

 

“Kurt!” She whispered loudly. God, that hurt. “Kurt!”

 

“What?” He whispered back, walking quickly towards her from the bathroom.

 

She waved him over frantically and he dropped down next to her on the couch. “Is Brody here?” She whispered in his face.

 

“Oh my God, Santana, you smell like a distillery.”

 

“Not now, Ladylips.” She rolled her eyes. How did that hurt? Damn her life. “Is he here? Did I meet him?”

 

Kurt tried his best to stifle his laugh, to his credit. “Um, yes. Yes you did. Briefly.”

 

“Oh, fuck.” Santana dropped back onto the sofa and put a hand over her eyes. “I need coffee.”

 

“Coming up, m’lady.” Kurt said, pushing himself up off the sofa.

 

What was up with that?

 

“What’s up with that?” She asked, turning to face him as slowly as she could so as not to disturb the army of gods attempting to split her skull and be born.

 

“What’s up with what?” He looked over at her in confusion.

 

“Why are you being so nice?”

 

“Well, Satan,” He began, busying himself with the coffee machine. “Firstly, you are a guest in my home so, despite the fact you are the biggest bitch the world has ever known, I shall treat you accordingly.”

 

“Thanks.” Santana didn’t even have to energy to cut him down. She really shouldn’t drink so much.

 

“Secondly,” He wandered over and handed her the coffee. She really needed one of those machines. That was ridiculously quick. Or they were talking really slow.

 

“Santana.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“I need you to pay attention, sweetie. This is difficult enough for me to say as it is.”

 

Santana looked at him in genuine bewilderment.

 

“Secondly, I asked for your help and you really came through, so thank you.” He smiled at her. Or maybe slightly grimaced. It was difficult to tell with Kurt. “You really stopped her from making a terrible mistake.”

 

Santana grunted in response. What about it? You try taking praise when you feel like a pig voided it’s bowels into your head. She took a tentative sip of coffee. “Fuck, Porcelain, this tastes like ass.”

 

“And the moment is gone.” Kurt rolled his eyes and headed back to the kitchen.

 

Santana took another sip of the coffee, gagged slightly, and made an attempt to stand up. Okay. She steadied herself and turned around. Alright. Her vision was clearing, her balance was okay. One step at a time, Santana, you got this. She reached down slowly and picked up the aspirin off the table, then turned and followed Kurt to the kitchen area.

 

“Okay,” She started, knocking back two aspirin and gagging on the coffee again. “So, first, you are welcome. Second…”

 

“Uh, Santana…” Kurt put his magazine down, a mildly disgusted look on his face.

 

“What?”

 

“Could you, um…” He gestured at her body with his hand.

 

She looked down, trying to work out what was wrong.

 

He sighed. “You are kind of, um, well...indecent.”

 

“Indecent?” She echoed. “Kurt, I am wearing underwear.”

 

“Barely. Plus, it’s kind of cold in here. Maybe you want the blanket?”

 

Santana rolled her eyes again, silently cursing herself, and him, when the action sent a bolt of pain through her head. She returned to the couch and grabbed the blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders before seating herself at the kitchen table.

 

“As I was saying, what happened?” She whispered. “What did I say to him?”

 

“Well,” Kurt grinned, leaning over conspiratorially. “Not much. But you did keep calling him Ken.”

 

“Ken?” Santana’s brain hurt.

 

“You may also have mentioned his incredibly smooth, plastic like appearance. Once or twice.” Kurt took a sip of coffee. “Or six times. Seven tops.”

 

“Huh. Not so bad then.”

 

Kurt chuckled. “For anyone else meeting their friend’s boyfriend for the first time it would be classed as very, very bad. For you, I call it a veritable triumph in the art of restraint.” He took another drink of his coffee and Santana was pleased to see him grimace slightly.

 

“Dude, you seriously need to buy better coffee.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The shower was definitely helping. She still had that slightly lurchy feeling in her stomach but her headache had receded to a dull ache at least. The only problem was that there was now room in her brain for something other than pain and something was definitely trying to come through.

 

Initially she had assumed that this was connected to this Brody guy in some way, but since Kurt was telling her that the only comments she had made were ones she probably would have made sober she knew it couldn’t be that.

 

Santana groaned and leaned her head against the tiles. Why had she gotten so drunk? She needed to get her ass in gear and get to the airport. She had things to sort out in Kentucky and she needed her brain to be fully involved. The decision to drop out had not been taken lightly, and it hadn’t been quick. Kentucky just wasn’t the place for her, she needed to be somewhere and doing something that challenged her and held her interest.

 

Maybe somewhere like here?

 

Santana shut off the shower and wrapped a towel round herself. She checked her face in the mirror to see if the damage was noticeable, which thankfully it wasn’t. As she turned away another mark caught her eye and she spun back to the mirror nearly slipping in the process. A small, red mark about halfway up on the side of her neck.

 

“Oh, shit…”

 

Santana braced herself against the sink as the memory of what had happened last night came rushing back.

 

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14. New York.

 

Rachel woke up with a start, wincing at the pain in her head. Someone was in the shower and the pipes were loud. So very loud. There was movement in the bed next to her and she felt Brody wrap his arm round her and snuggle up to her in his sleep. She tensed, not sure why.

 

Then she remembered.

 

Santana.

 

They had been at the bar. They had been talking. There had been alcohol. A lot of alcohol. And then…

 

“You really think I am going to make it?” Rachel leaned across the table and grabbed Santana’s hand.

 

“Of course I do, Berry.” Santana smiled back at her, her eyes slightly glazed from the alcohol. “There is no doubt in my mind.”

 

Rachel sighed and rested her head on her outstretched arm. “That’s nice. You’re nice.”

 

Santana chuckled and shook Rachel’s hand slightly, trying to raise her from her prone position. “And you’re drunk, Shorty. Come on. Up.”

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“To dance. This is not the place to sleep.” Santana walked behind her and pulled her up. “Dance. Dance, magic, dance.”

 

Rachel giggled at the reference and fell into Santana’s side as they made their way onto the dancefloor. “I love that film.”

 

“Me too,” Santana smiled at her as she pulled her into position. “Now, focus Berry. Don’t make me hold you up.”

 

Rachel giggled again and attempted to gain control over her body. The song was a fairly fast one and she ended up falling into Santana more often than not which Santana seemed to find mildly amusing at first, not so much after the first few minutes. When the song changed to a slower one Santana gave up and pulled Rachel against her, grateful for the opportunity to stop Rachel damaging herself or the other people on the floor.

 

Rachel just sighed contentedly, wrapped her arms around Santana’s waist and dropped her head against her shoulder.

 

“I am glad you came.” She smiled. “Thank you for rescuing me.”

 

“You would have figured it out for yourself, I’m sure.” Santana replied, softly poking the top of Rachel’s head. “We all know that big brain of yours always works it out.”

 

“Hmm, not so sure about that.” Rachel murmured. “There’s a lot going on in there at the moment.”

 

“Yeah?” Santana tilted her head, trying to look at Rachel’s face. “Care to share? Might as well make the most of me while I’m here.”

 

Rachel lifted her head and looked at her for a moment. She opened her mouth then closed it again. Then a small smile played on her lips and she dropped her head again. “This is nice. You’re nice.”

 

“Yeah. You said that before.” Santana smiled. “Come on, Rach. Let’s get you home.”

 

She led Rachel off the dancefloor, picked up their coats and helped her up the stairs out of the bar. As they reached the street Santana stopped and tried to get Rachel into her coat. Rachel did her best to help but kept getting her arm caught which set her off in a fit of giggles and the annoyed look on Santana’s face only served to heighten her hysteria.

 

“Come on, Berry, help me out here.” Santana grumbled. “Just turn around so we can get your other arm in.”

 

Rachel tried, she really did, but ended up turning the wrong way and stumbling into Santana, knocking her against the wall and landing against her, winding them both. Rachel tried to push herself up and realised with a start that she had both her hands on Santana’s breasts. Slowly, her eyes travelled up from her hands to Santana’s face. She was looking down at her with an expression that was in the process of changing from annoyance to confusion.

 

God, she was beautiful.

 

Rachel couldn’t help herself. She leaned up and kissed her. She felt Santana tense underneath her but then Rachel moved her hands slightly and her thumb grazed over Santana’s nipple and Rachel felt all the other girl’s resistance crumble.

 

Santana’s hands rushed up her back into her hair and Rachel pressed herself harder into her body, into the kiss. Everything that she had been holding back came rushing over her and Rachel felt like she was on fire. She moved her hands more insistently over Santana’s breast and she moaned into Rachel’s mouth, pushing her knee between Rachel’s legs. Months of want and frustration finally broke free and it was so intense Rachel could barely breathe. She broke their kiss and moved her lips down Santana’s neck, at which point she felt hands dropping down her back to her ass and pushing her further into Santana’s tensed thigh. The feeling that went through her body was pure electricity and she clamped her lips down on Santana’s neck, willing the feeling not to stop.

 

A burst of laughter from a group leaving the bar brought her back to herself and she pulled her lips away, leaning back slightly.

 

Santana was looking back down at her, eyes dark with lust. “How quickly can we get back to your place?”

 

Rachel groaned and fell against Santana’s chest as she realised. “Brody’s there.”

 

“Why? Is he waiting for you?”

 

“He lives there.” Rachel felt Santana tense beneath her.

 

Slowly she raised her eyes to Santana’s face once more. Her expression was unreadable.

 

“He lives with you?” Rachel nodded gently. Santana breathed out slowly and pushed Rachel into a standing position before standing herself and shrugging her coat on as she began to walk down the street. Warily Rachel began to follow, rapidly sobering up and really not prepared for the wave of emotions that began to wash over her.

 

Suddenly Santana stopped dead in the street and turned to face her. “He lives with you?” She repeated, incredulously. Rachel could only nod again, fighting back tears. “Well, do you mind telling me what the fuck you think you’re doing pushing me up against a wall in the middle of the street and kissing me like that when you have a boyfriend who fucking lives with you?”

 

“Santana…”

 

“A boyfriend who you neglected to tell me even existed before tonight?”

 

“Well, it’s not as if we really talk about…”

 

“Save it, Rachel.” Santana spat. “We’ve talked practically every day since Christmas. You would think you having a serious enough relationship with somebody that they’ve fucking moved in might have come up at some point.” With that she turned on her heel and marched off up the street.

 

Rachel followed slowly, tears rolling down her face stopping only when Santana ducked into an all night store. She felt terrible. Santana was right, she had had plenty of opportunities to bring up Brody and she hadn’t. And, as usual, she didn’t know why.

 

When Santana reappeared, swigging something out of a brown paper bag, she seemed to have calmed down slightly so Rachel fell into step next to her.

 

After a couple of minutes of silent marching Santana offered her the bottle.

 

“No, thank you.” Rachel said softly. “I’m so sorry, Santana.”

 

“Don’t.”  The reply was softer than before but still angry, so Rachel dropped it and they walked home silently together.

 

By the time they reached their building Santana had drunk a fair bit of whatever was in the bottle and was walking a good deal more unsteadily than before. She leaned up against the wall whilst waiting for Rachel to open the door and Rachel looked up at her with concern.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“No, not really.” Santana chuckled sadly. She drew in a breath and turned to look at her for the first time since they had left the bar. “Rachel, what are we doing?”

 

Rachel dropped her eyes to the floor and tried to come up with something, anything to say to make this situation make sense. In the end she turned to open the door and said the only thing that she had been able to come up with whenever she tried to work it out in her own head.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rachel didn’t know what to do. She was tempted just to hide in bed until Santana left and deal with it all at another time, but that would be cowardly and if there was one thing Rachel Berry was not it was a coward.

 

So, with no idea what she was going to say or how to handle the situation she found herself in, she steeled her resolve and made her move towards the kitchen.

 

“Morning, Rachel.” Kurt said cheerfully. “There’s aspirin here, if Santana hasn’t taken them all.”

 

“Thanks,” she muttered, shuffling over to the sink for some water.

 

“Good night?”

 

“Um, yeah.”

 

Kurt chuckled to himself. “You sound about as sure as Santana.”

 

“Why?” Rachel snapped her head in his direction, instantly regretting the sudden movement. “What did she say?”

 

“Oh, she has no memory of it at all.” Kurt laughed before taking a drink of coffee and grimacing. “I think the faceplant into the sofa has knocked it out of her head. She doesn’t even remember meeting Brody.”

 

“Oh, God.” Rachel put her head in her hands and leaned on the counter. “I forgot about that. I suppose I will need to try and explain to him that that was just Santana being Santana.”

 

“Hmm. I wonder if he will believe that she was actually quite restrained last night?”

 

Restraint. God, Rachel wished she had had some of that herself last night.

 

“You okay, Rach?” Kurt was looking at her like he knew something. She hated when he did that.

 

“As well as can be expected given the unprecedented amount of alcohol I consumed last night.” Rachel replied, willing herself to get a grip. She sat at the table and popped a couple of aspirin into her hand. “How is she?”

 

Kurt laughed. “Better than she was when she woke up. She managed a couple of insults before she disappeared into the shower so I would say she’s on the mend.”

 

As if on cue the bathroom door opened and Santana appeared. Rachel immediately felt herself tense but if Santana was having any similar issues she gave no indication.

 

“Ugh, tequila is not my friend.” She muttered, shuffling over to the couch and packing her things into her bag. “Morning, Berry.”

 

“Good morning, Santana.” Rachel replied, trying to keep her voice normal. “Would you like some coffee?”

 

“God, no. That stuff is awful.” Santana grimaced as she zipped up her bag. “I’ll grab some on my way.”

 

“Oh, you’re leaving?”

 

“Yup. Got a flight to catch.” Santana pulled her bag onto her shoulder and shot a small smirk in her direction. “No rest for the wicked.”

 

“Well, I can come with you if you…” Rachel started, getting up from the table.

 

“No, it’s okay.” Santana interrupted her quickly. “I have to haul ass if I’m going to make it. Stay.”

 

“Oh. Okay.”

 

They both just stood there for a few seconds.

 

“Okay.” Santana nodded, adjusting her bag and heading over to give Rachel an awkward one armed hug. “See you later. Hummel.” She nodded in his direction and headed to the door.

 

“Bye, Santana.” He called cheerily from behind his magazine.

 

Rachel followed her to the door. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

 

Santana chuckled. “I’m a big girl, Rach. I can take care of myself.” She pulled the door open and gave Rachel a small wave as she backed out into the hallway. “See you around.”

 

“Okay. Safe trip.” She waved back.

 

Rachel watched Santana as she walked down the hallway and realised that she was waiting for her to look back. She felt a rush of panic wash over her. Should she stop her? Make her come back? Make her talk about what had happened between them? What kept happening?

 

But what would she say?

  
Santana rounded the corner and started down the stairs. She didn’t look back.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15. Lima.

 

Santana was lost. She stopped to catch her breath and stretch out. Taking a look around to try and get her bearings she laughed to herself at how fitting her situation was.

 

She had been back in Lima for 3 weeks, just hiding out at her parents house and trying to sort out the shitstorm that was her current mental state. So far she had not made much progress and having so much time on her hands had actually made her feel worse about her lack of direction and way too much brain space to waste on the Rachel Berry mindfuck.

 

So she had tried to find things to fill her time. She had borrowed Puck’s guitar and was teaching herself to play, she was writing songs to try and get some of her thoughts out and when it all got too much she would set out on longer and longer runs, hence her current lost status.

 

She pulled out her phone and checked her GPS, then pointed herself towards home and set off running again.

 

After she had left New York she had gone back to Kentucky and packed up her stuff as planned. The only problem was that when she came up with her grand plan she had seen herself dropping out of college and heading for New York, now that was the last place she wanted to be. It wasn’t like she had imagined moving there to be with Berry, or anything. Sure, she had developed something of a crush on the girl over the last six months or so, and the night of the bathroom incident had deepened that feeling, but the way Rachel had reacted had closed her down and she had started to deal with that. Then, the Christmas phone call had happened, and the text messages after, and Santana had started to believe that they could be friends, and that when she moved to New York she could crash with her and Kurt whilst she got her shit together.

 

But now…

 

Santana was just so fucking confused. First that stupid song that Rachel had made them sing, that stupid “Love Song” song. Ordinarily Santana wouldn’t read too much into songs, but this was Rachel Berry, after all. And forgive her if she was obsessing about this, but you look at those lyrics for a second and find any correlation to Berry’s “can I get my tits out on film?” dilemma. Can you? Thought not. So what the fuck was that all about?

 

And then Berry announces she has a boyfriend. Well, not even announces, just slips out his name and if Santana hadn’t asked, Rachel probably wouldn’t have clarified. So, cool. Santana had put the confusing song to the back of her mind and tried to focus on having a good night with her friend. And then her friend had jumped her and practically dry humped her against a wall. Again. And then announced that the boyfriend Santana had found out about two hours ago is living with her.

 

It was all too much.

 

So, instead of trading Kentucky for the bright lights of New York Santana found herself slinking back home, too embarrassed to tell anyone she was here. She hadn’t even told Britt. She suddenly realised her rage had turned her jog into a sprint and her lungs were burning. She slowed to a stop and doubled over, trying to get her breath back.

 

“Fuck you, Berry.” She spat.

 

She hated feeling like this. Hated it. No one had ever made her feel this bad before, not even when Brittany had picked Artie over her. At least she knew there was a reason for that, even if she didn’t get it. But with Berry? First, Santana had been in love with Britt and had been for years, even though she had been in denial about it. But Rachel Berry? Half the time the girl annoyed the shit out of Santana. She was loud and arrogant and talked way too much and wore stupid sweaters and walked around like miss fucking perfect. Sure, she had an amazing voice, and her performances could pull emotions out of you you thought were buried forever, and had those ridiculous legs that seemed to go on forever, but you knew didn’t because they ended in that perfect ass…

 

Okay, not the point, Santana.

 

What was the second point? She was sure there had been one, but now she was just thinking of Rachel’s ass and the noises she made when Santana had grabbed it…

 

Saved by the bell. Santana looked down at her phone and saw it was Tina calling. She answered and barely had time to say hello before Tina was delivering the news that Brittany was now dating Sam and hanging up on her.

 

“Oh, hell no…” Santana put her phone away and set off for home.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Santana had been feeling pretty awesome when Britt called her. She had been to the school and done a kick ass performance of Nutbush City Limits, made B jealous with her hot new fake girlfriend, and Coach Sylvester had offered her a job. Admittedly, her attempts to warn off Trouty Mouth had backfired a bit and made her feel a bit shitty, but it wasn’t like he could make Britt happy, right? Santana was the one who was supposed to make Britt happy.

 

But then B had called and asked her to meet in the auditorium and Santana knew it was on. Coach had given her the opportunity to stay in Lima and have a purpose, doing something she was fucking awesome at, and she could get Britt back and forget all about Rachel headfuck Berry and be happy.

 

So much for that. Britt had chosen today of all days to have one of her genius insightful moments and make Santana see that she was deluding herself. She was bigger than Lima. She needed to find herself again and she wasn’t going to do it here. She needed to be in New York.

 

Of course, there was still the Rachel problem but Santana could deal with that when it came to it. She just had to be strong. And definitely not get drunk with her. It wasn’t like she was in love with her or anything, right? And Broadway Ken would be occupying most of Berry’s time anyway, Santana could just crash on their couch while she got her life back on track, ignore their annoying asses as much as she could and get the fuck out of Dodge as soon as possible.

 

It was on.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Santana flopped down on the couch and sighed. Her feet hurt. Her back hurt. Her face hurt from smiling so much. Job hunting was a gigantic pain in the ass. And she really wasn’t designed to sleep on sofas. She hadn’t realised how uncomfortable Kurt and Rachel’s was either, although that was possibly because last time she had stayed she had sort of passed out on it and then had a raging hangover to distract her the next day.

 

Her first 48 hours in New York had been decidedly underwhelming. Sure, she hadn’t expected a party in honour of her arrival but maybe a little bit of excitement? Instead, Kurt had just sort of shrugged his agreement and gone back to cataloguing his collection of animal brooches, or whatever the fuck he was doing, and Rachel… well, she had looked kind of scared when Santana had appeared, then horrified when she announced her intention to stay, but she hadn’t said anything. In fact, she had barely spoken two words to her since. True, they hadn’t been alone together in that time and Santana had not really made an effort to talk to her either…

 

The only person she had been alone with was Brody. God, he was dull. And definitely sketchy. He had appeared in the kitchen this morning, woken her up with his incessant banging about and then had the audacity to try and engage her in conversation before Santana had had her first cup of coffee. He was lucky to still have all his appendages. If she had packed her blowtorch she would definitely have attempted to melt part of him. Thankfully she had brought some decent coffee with her so she had hastily made a cup and escaped to the bathroom, and when she came back out he had gone.

 

Santana dragged herself into the kitchen to make herself a drink just as the loft door slid open and a very tired looking Rachel walked in.

 

“Hey, Berry.” Santana greeted her. “Coffee?”

 

“Yes please.” Rachel dropped her bag on the floor and flopped down into a chair. “I swear my dance teacher is actually trying to kill me. There can be no other explanation for her behaviour.”

 

Santana chuckled and busied herself with the drinks. She was suddenly hyper aware that this was the first time the two of them had been alone together since that night.

 

“So, how was the job search?”

 

“Oh, God, so depressing. I am seriously considering a life of crime so I don’t have to do it again.” Santana turned to face Rachel with a serious look on her face. “What do you think would suit me best, bank robber or con artist?”

 

Rachel rested her chin on her hand and studied her for a moment. “Well, whilst I could definitely see you starring in a remake of Set It Off,” Santana bowed slightly at this. “I think your skill set is definitely more suited to con artist.”

 

“Hmm, I am not sure how to take that.” Santana smirked as she finished up the coffees and handed one to Rachel.

 

“Well, you are very charming when you want to be, as well as extremely confident, headstrong, fierce, courageous, and your poker face is outstanding.” Rachel ducked her head and drank some of her coffee. “Um, this coffee is amazing. Thank you so much.”

 

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t bring myself to be in the same space as that toxic sludge you were drinking before, so.” Santana replied, her mind still on Rachel’s description of her.

 

Rachel smiled at her. “God, I know. Kurt is now banned from buying coffee.” She set her cup down and studied her again. “I can’t believe you just moved here. Especially now.”

 

Santana frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

 

“Well, we’re all going back again.” Rachel answered quickly, blushing. “Tomorrow. For Mr Schue’s wedding.”

 

“Yeah, well I got a good deal on a return flight this week and I figured that I could do with it in case, well, you know.” Rachel looked at her quizzically and Santana rolled her eyes in response. “In case you and Kurt said no.”

 

“Oh.” Rachel responded as if she hadn’t even realised that was an option. “Did you think we would?”

 

“Well, yeah. Kind of.” Santana mumbled into her coffee, embarrassed. “You know, with everything that’s happened. I mean I haven’t exactly been the nicest to the two of you over the years.” She rushed to finish, hoping Rachel wouldn’t think she was bringing up anything else.

 

“Yes, well, we’re not in high school anymore.” Rachel sighed, standing up and making her way towards the bathroom. “And you’re not the only one who has made mistakes, Santana.”

 

Santana stared after Rachel’s retreating form. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16. Lima

 

No one knew what to do. The wedding was off. They were all just milling around outside giving Mr Schuester his space. Miss Pillsbury’s parents had seemed quite relieved by the whole thing and had told them just to go ahead and enjoy the reception but no one had made a move yet.

 

“Well we can’t just stand here all day.” Tina whined. “It’s cold.”

 

“Someone needs to go in and talk to Mr Schue.” Mercedes said, turning pointedly to Santana.

 

Rachel followed suit and saw that Santana was staring down at her nails with a deep frown. She hadn’t noticed that everyone was suddenly looking at her.

 

“Ahem,” Mercedes cleared her throat loudly, finally gaining Santana’s attention.

 

“What?” She asked, glancing around the group, eyes wide. “Why are you all staring at me?”

 

“We, ah, we want you to go in and ask Mr Schue about the reception.” Tina mumbled.

 

“What? No way! Why me?”

 

“Well, cos you’re…you know.” Artie started.

 

Santana crossed her arms and turned to face him, a dangerous look on her face.

 

“I think what Artie is trying to say is that you are, ah, good at the, um, difficult conversations.” Blaine tried.

 

Rachel smiled slightly as Santana’s eyebrows shot up to a comically high level. After staring him down for several awkward moments she turned and strode off towards the building, a string of spanish curses on her breath.  The group heaved a collective sigh of relief and returned to their conversations, only Rachel still paying enough attention to see Santana pause and square her shoulders before heading inside.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rachel washed her hands and looked at herself in the mirror. She barely recognised herself any more. She knew that these were the years people used to discover themselves but more and more she found she was not liking the person she was discovering.

 

The night before she had left she left New York she had had date night with Brody to make up for the fact she would be absent for Valentine’s day, and it was nice. He had taken her to a romantic restaurant and to a movie, then they had come back to the loft and, pleasantly surprised to find it empty, had sex. A lot of sex.

 

The first thing she had done when she got to Lima was meet up with Finn as he had phoned her sounding upset. When he told her that he had kissed Miss Pillsbury she hadn’t really known how to react, her first emotion being one of relief that at least she wasn’t the only one making wildly inappropriate decisions about who to kiss and when, although this was hardly the same situation. She felt bad for him, she really did, but she couldn’t help him. He would just need to work through it himself, just as she was trying to.

 

That night, alone in bed for the first time in a long while she couldn’t stop herself from thinking about Santana. She had no idea why the girl had such an effect on her. When Kurt had opened the door and she had been standing there Rachel’s heart had been in her mouth and she was out of her chair before she could stop herself. She had felt like running over and grabbing Santana where she stood, and then when she said she was moving in Rachel was terrified. How could she possibly live with someone who got her into such a state?

 

Thankfully rational Rachel had woken up at that point. She was a grown woman, not some kind of mindless animal. She was obviously attracted to Santana, but was there anything more to it than that? Of course not. She couldn’t let there be. She knew Santana. Santana wasn’t interested in her like that. Every time something had happened, except at Nationals when Santana had been drunk, Rachel had been the instigator.  Rachel knew that Santana was a very sexual person and in high school she had made no secret of the fact that she never said no, but to expect anything else from her?

 

She knew that she couldn’t, and she didn’t know when she had started wanting to. All she knew was that she had spent pretty much the whole of this non-wedding reception staring at the girl. Santana and Quinn had been attached at the hip since they got here and Rachel had noticed the way they were looking at each other and kept touching each other and it was driving her insane. It was all she could do to stop herself from marching over there and dragging Santana away.

 

And Finn kept staring at her. It was equal parts unnerving and flattering, and it was giving her a welcome distraction from tormenting herself with the Quintana show.

 

Speak of the devil…

 

“Hi Quinn.” Rachel tried to smile as Quinn entered the bathroom.

 

“Rachel.” The blonde nodded. “Nice bouquet. Got someone lined up?”

 

“God, no.” Rachel laughed. “The idea of teen marriage has long since lost its appeal you will be pleased to hear. I am just enjoying New York.”

 

“So I hear.” Quinn quirked her eyebrow and leaned against the sink.

 

“Oh?” Rachel frowned slightly and turned to face her.

 

“Santana has been filling me in.”

 

Rachel dropped her eyes, embarrassed by where her mind had gone. “Yes, you two seem to be having a good time.”

 

“Yeah,” Quinn turned to the mirror, checked her makeup and then glanced over at Rachel’s reflection. “Although I think her mind might be somewhere else.”

 

Rachel looked up at her, confused.

 

“What are you doing, Rachel?”

 

“I don’t know what you mean.” She lied, her heart dropping. “Did she say something?”

 

“She didn’t have to. You’re kind of obvious with your staring. And don’t think she’s not sneaking glances your way every five minutes as well.”

 

Rachel just stood there shaking her head, mortified. “I…”

 

“Look, you know I have never been shy when it comes to telling you what I think of you, Rachel, and I am not going to stop now.” Quinn said, turning her intense gaze back to Rachel’s face. “You are better than this. You need to make a decision and you need to make it fast. You are just hurting everyone here. Santana, yourself, your fake plastic boyfriend…”

 

Rachel snapped her head up angrily. “Brody is not my fake boyfriend. He lives with me. We are very much real.”

 

“Oh really?” Quinn arched her eyebrow again. “So why have you been eye fucking Santana all day?”

 

Rachel blushed furiously. Panicking, she picked up her bouquet and made to leave. “I don’t know what you are talking about, Quinn. Now if you will excuse me.”

 

“She doesn’t deserve this, Rachel.”

 

“And what does she deserve, Quinn?” Rachel snapped, whipping back round to face her. “You? You certainly seem to be enjoying rubbing up against her.”

 

Quinn just shrugged. “Maybe. And if I can take her mind off it, even just for tonight, you better believe I will. Fair warning, Berry.” With that she walked into the stall and slammed the door.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Rachel walked out of the bathroom Finn was waiting for her. She was still reeling from the conversation with Quinn so she was barely following the conversation. Something about being a gardener?

 

She tried to focus on what he was saying.

 

“And I think the reason you can’t really commit to Brody is because you are still in love with someone else.” He was saying.

 

Of course this was the point at which Quinn walked out of the bathroom. And of course she heard. And of course she quirked her eyebrow and smirked at Rachel as she walked off.

 

Rachel tried to ignore her and dragged Finn off to sing their duet. As they took to the stage Rachel searched out Santana and Quinn, desperately hoping that Quinn wasn’t going to tell her about their conversation. As the music started up she spotted the blonde dragging Santana across the dancefloor, stopping right in front of the stage on Finn’s side and pulling her into an embrace as they slow danced to the song.

 

The rush of emotions that went through her was almost unbearable. She was so angry with Quinn, so overwhelmed by how much she wanted to be dancing with Santana instead of up here with Finn and so guilty for what she was putting the other girl through, if Quinn was correct. She had never in her whole life felt so conflicted.

 

She focused on singing with Finn, grateful for his attention and being able to purge her emotions through song. She tried not to look back over to where the two girls were dancing but towards the end of the song she couldn’t help it. Quinn was facing her, arms still holding Santana to her tightly. She caught the silent question in Quinn’s pointed look and felt her stomach clench. She had to stop this. She had to get over whatever this was. Quinn was right, she wasn’t being fair. She was hurting everyone.

 

She looked back at Quinn and shook her head.

 

Quinn turned her head and whispered something in Santana’s ear. Santana pulled back slightly and looked at her questioningly. Quinn just smiled and dropped her head back onto her shoulder and carried on dancing.

 

The song ended to enthusiastic applause and Rachel walked off stage in a haze of unwanted emotions. She felt a hand on her arm and turned around to see Finn looking at her expectantly.

 

“Sorry?” She asked, realising she had missed a question.

 

“I said do you want to get a drink?” He repeated. Over his shoulder she saw Quinn leading Santana off the dancefloor and out towards the elevators.

  
“Yes.” She replied, jealousy washing over her. “Yes, I would love a drink.”


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17. Lima

 

The situation was now officially ridiculous. Okay, it didn’t help that all of her close female friends were crazy attractive but, really, did she have no self control? At all? I mean, she didn’t regret sleeping with Quinn, and it wouldn’t affect their friendship. Well, it shouldn’t. Violence, blackmail, betrayal and lizard baby insults hadn’t so what was a little casual sex between friends? It was just it was getting a little embarrassing now. Britt could have been a one off, Berry excused with alcohol, at a push. But now with Quinn completing the set?

 

There was a chance she had a problem. Or she just needed to get out more.

 

She trudged down the stairs and grabbed a coffee.

 

“You okay, mija?” Her mother asked, rubbing the back of Santana’s head.

 

“Fine, mami. Long night.”

 

“Hmm, I heard you come in this morning.” Her mother watched her carefully as she sat down at the table. “How did it go?”

 

Santana shrugged. “Just about as badly as possible. Miss Pillsbury didn’t show up.”

 

“Oh, no, that poor man.”

 

Santana just shrugged again. “He’s better off out of it if you ask me.”

 

“Santana! Have a heart.” Her mother scolded.

 

“I do have a heart, mom! That’s what I’m saying. If you love someone there is no way you could do that to them.” Santana frowned at her coffee. “When you care about someone you put them first, you show them how you feel. You don’t play games with them.” She crossed her arms and pouted a little. “I do have a heart.”

 

“Oh, baby, I know.” Her mother crossed over to her and pulled her into a hug, kissing her gently on top of her head. “You have a big one, much as you try to hide it. It’s just not always that simple.”

 

Santana pulled away and picked up her mug. “Well it should be.”

 

“You always see the world in black and white, Santana. You see the truth in a situation and you are not afraid to say it. You just have to understand that not everyone is so fortunate.” Her mother gave her a look. “Or as brave.”

 

“No. I guess not.” Santana sighed. “That doesn’t stop it hurting, though.”

 

“I know, mija.” Her mother rubbed her back and started out of the room. “You just have to be patient. She’ll work it out.”

 

Santana gawked after her. What the hell? She had never spoken to her mother about any of this stuff. Who was she talking about? And was Santana that obvious? God she hoped not.

 

She had avoided Rachel like the plague at the non-wedding. It had been a weird day all round and once she and Quinn got their drink on she knew coming into contact with Rachel would be a bad idea. Thankfully Finn had seemed intent on monopolising his ex-girlfriend’s time after he had finished holding Mr Schue’s hand so it had been fairly easy, and Quinn had seemed similarly keen on keeping Santana by her side. She had realised quite early on that Quinn was flirting with her, she just wasn’t sure why or what to make of it. She still wasn’t. Still, it had been fun, a lot of fun, and it had taken her mind off everything for a while.

 

And it had helped her realise that the whole Rachel situation was hopeless. Obviously the girl was happy with plastic man, Santana had not realised quite how happy until she had come back in from having a cigarette on the fire escape the night before the wedding and heard them going at it. For hours. That had been a very uncomfortable night, and she couldn’t even leave because she didn’t have keys yet. So she had just plugged her headphones into her mac and fiddled around with the master track of one of her songs, desperately trying to drown out the sounds coming from behind Rachel’s curtain.

 

Santana sighed and finished her coffee. Her flight wasn’t til tomorrow so she figured she would get dressed and go hang out with Puck.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Dude, you totally should have moved to LA with me. Why the fuck do you want to be in New York?”

 

“Come on, Puck, New York is so much cooler than LA.” Santana scoffed.

 

“You say that now, but wait til you see the ladies out there.” Puck shot back. “I am telling you, San, you would have been drowning in it. You could be living your own personal L Word.”

 

“What the fuck do you know about the L Word?” She laughed.

 

“Come on, man, why wouldn’t I have seen the L Word? Hot chicks banging each other left, right and centre?”

 

“Good point.”

 

“Anyway, all I’m saying is you would own that town.” Puck smiled, punching her in the shoulder.

 

“Damn straight. But New York is where I need to be right now. I just have a feeling.”

 

“Uh huh. And this wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain Jewberry, would it?”

 

“Pfft,” Santana walked over to the fridge and grabbed them a couple of beers. “So over that. You should come visit. I’ll take you to a lesbian bar?”

 

He smirked and clinked bottles with her. “Only if you let me watch.”

 

“Sure.” She rolled her eyes taking a sip. “So what happened with LA? Why’d you come back if it’s soooo great?”

 

“Honestly?” Puck said after taking a long swig. “It just didn’t feel right. Maybe if I had you or Finn there things would have been different, but it just wasn’t...I just...you know?”

 

She smiled at that. “Yeah, I know.”

 

“Whatever.” He shrugged. “How’s the guitar coming?”

 

“Um, good actually. I mean, I’m still just on the basic chords but I’ve written some stuff that I am pretty happy with, and I can add the more complicated stuff with my software.”

 

“You wanna play me some?”

 

“God no, I’m not there yet.”

 

“Come on, bad ass Lopez afraid to get her jam on?” Puck laughed, getting up to grab them more beers. “I’ll teach you how to play Foxy Lady?”

 

“Well, in that case…”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Santana headed back to New York the next day with a raging hangover but an excellent track on her Mac. It had no vocal yet but she had a beautiful melody in mind, just no decent lyrics. She listened to it on the plane but nothing would come to her. Frustrated she pulled out her ipod and put it on shuffle.

 

Born to Die started. God, that was depressingly relevant. She skipped it. Purple Rain. Skip it. Another Case by Uh Huh Her. Skip it. You Don’t Know Me, Ray Charles. Skip it. The Bees by Belly. Jesus, was this thing trying to kill her? You’ll See, Baby it’s You, Ever Try Sleeping with a Broken Heart…

 

“Jesus!” She swore loudly, before realising she was sitting between an elderly Chinese woman and a clean cut young man who she suspected was a Mormon. She pulled her headphones out in annoyance and leaned her head back against the seat.

 

It was going to be a long flight back to New York.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When she got back to the loft no one was in. She dropped her bags in the kitchen and rushed into the toilet, cursing public transport. As she reached for the toilet roll her eye caught something in the trash. Realising too late that she was poking through old tissues and that there were currently two gross boys living in this apartment, she pulled out the box and saw that she had not been mistaken. It was a home pregnancy test.

 

“What the crap?” Ignoring the potential hazards she dug deeper. At this point she was looking for a pee covered stick so… “Oh, not good.”

 

She buried the offending items back underneath the wad of tissues (seriously, who needed that many tissues?) and finished up, making sure to scrub her hands until most of her top layer of skin was removed.

 

This was not good at all. She definitely needed to talk to Rachel about this. Didn’t she? Surely Rachel would want to talk about this. Rachel wanted to talk about everything. Well, almost everything. But would she want to talk to Santana? Well, she would just have to make her. Ease her into it somehow. Or just, you know, take her usual approach and try and shock her into a conversation.

 

Jesus, she needed a cigarette. This was too much. This would ruin Rachel. Santana grabbed a coat off the rack and headed out to the fire escape. Nice coat. Black, three quarter length. She briefly wondered if anyone would notice if she stole it as she lit her cigarette. It was cold out there so she pulled the coat tighter and stuffed her hands in the pockets.

 

Where she found a whole bundle of cash and a pager.

 

“Holy shit…”

 

Well, now there were two conversations she was going to have to shock Rachel into. Somehow, given their history, she thought the “So, you’re knocked up?” talk was going to be easier than the “So, your plastic boy toy is a drug dealer?” one.

  
“Well, this day just got interesting…”


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18. New York

 

Rachel was so stressed out. Everything was messed up. She was late and the test result had been inconclusive. She was too scared to take another one and then she was snowed in and everywhere was shut anyway.

 

The last thing she needed was Santana’s movie selection and barbed comments about how she was putting on weight. And then the ridiculous accusation that her boyfriend, and father of her possible child, was a drug dealer? It was too much.

 

She didn’t know what to do. Sometimes when Santana looked at her it was as if she could see into her soul. It was unnerving and oddly thrilling at the same time. When she looked back at her in these moments Rachel felt like she was getting to see a part of Santana that no one else got to see. And she wanted to see more.

 

God, why couldn’t she just get over this?

 

She thought back to the decision she had made at the wedding. There was no way she could have said anything to Santana that night but what about now? Could she talk to her now? Did she want to? Nothing had changed. Well, everything had changed potentially. Even now, in the middle of the biggest crisis of her life, she still couldn’t get Santana out of her head.

 

As usual, as if on cue, Santana burst through the door and started babbling about some gross man on the subway groping her. And then told her about finding the pregnancy test. And then Rachel broke down.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The next day Santana took her to the clinic and the results came back negative. Rachel was so relieved and happy and then Santana started on her about Brody again.

 

“This is an opportunity for you to take a hard look at the choices you’re making, where your life is heading. Starting with Donkey Face.”

 

“Look, Santana, you can’t keep talking about Brody like this. It’s making me very uncomfortable.”

 

“Good, that guy is bad news, Rachel. You need to get rid of him.”

 

Rachel took a deep breath and stared at the floor. “I am not having this conversation with you, Santana.”

 

“Well you have to talk to someone, okay? Look, I’m your friend, Rachel. I care about you and this guy is bad news.”

 

“My friend?” Rachel laughed. “That’s what we’re going with, Santana? You’re my ‘friend’?”

 

Santana looked confused. “Of course I am your friend, Rachel. I realise that when we were at school I wasn’t always…”

 

“I’m not talking about high school, Santana!” Rachel desperately tried to keep the level of her voice down, as they were still in the clinic waiting room. “I’m talking about you and me. About what has happened between us.”

 

Santana just stood there, an unreadable expression on her face. Rachel desperately wanted, no, needed her to say something. She just couldn’t bear this situation any more. She needed to know where she stood, and it wasn’t fair to put all of that on Santana, she knew that. She just hoped that getting an insight into how Santana felt would maybe help her, give her the courage to take that leap.

 

After the longest time Santana spoke. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Rach.” She said quietly. “I am doing this to be your friend. I’m not trying to break you and your boyfriend up to...well, for any reason other than...I’m just...well, he’s not good for you, Rachel.”

 

Rachel’s heart sank. She didn’t know what she had been expecting. Some grand declaration perhaps? Her head was just as confused as before, maybe more so. She felt her frustration welling up as anger inside her. “If you were really my friend, Santana, you would accept that I have made my choice and support me accordingly.”

 

Santana crossed her arms and frowned at her. “Choice?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“What choice?”

 

Rachel blushed, realising the implication of her statement. “Look, can we just get out of here? I am going to be late for class.”

 

She turned and walked out.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Later that night she sat alone in the loft thinking about what Santana had said about her pregnancy scare. It went over and over in her head. She was right, this was a wake up call, she did need to examine her choices. Her life was becoming way too complicated. Everything had been perfect before Santana had arrived. Having her in the apartment only made Rachel more confused than ever. The day before she had bumped into her walking out of the shower. Like literally bumped into her. She could feel her body hot and wet under the towel. She couldn’t deal with it.

 

And this latest development with Santana being the only one she could talk to and her being so understanding and supportive and, well, nice...Rachel just couldn’t take it. She couldn’t lie to herself any more. This was so much more than physical attraction. And when she had tried to bring it up Santana had basically avoided the whole subject. Granted, Rachel could have brought it up in a better way, or a better setting. Even one of the two would have opened up a dialogue with a much higher probability of success.

 

Rachel put on some music to distract herself. ‘How to be a Heartbreaker’ came on. Rachel started to sing along to settle her brain. As she sang “so it’s better to be fake, can’t risk losing love again” she realised that she didn’t know who she was singing about. And then she realised she did. And by the end of the song she was realised she was in a lot deeper than she had allowed herself to understand. And she was terrified.

 

She knew what she had to do. She needed to talk to Kurt.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I know what you are saying, Rachel, I just think that we need to give her a little more time.” Kurt said, handing her a coffee. “We can’t just kick her out. Where would she go?”

 

“I’m not saying we need to kick her out right this minute. I’m just saying we need to tell her to start looking. I feel bad about it too but I just can’t take it anymore, Kurt.” Rachel looked at him imploringly. “She’s constantly on my case about Brody, and he feels uncomfortable all the time around her.”

 

“Everyone feels uncomfortable around Santana, it’s just something you get used to in time.”

 

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Kurt.”

 

“What? It’s true.” He took a sip of his coffee. “And I’m sorry, but I kind of agree with her a little bit. Something about this ‘waiter with a pager’ story doesn’t really add up.”

 

“Well, maybe, but so what if he has a little extra money? Maybe he has rich parents and doesn’t want to admit it?”

 

“Rachel, I think you are reaching.” Rachel sighed and sank back into her chair. “Alright, look. Let me talk to her. She’s can be completely despicable on occasion but I really believe that her heart is in the right place on this. It’s not like she’s crazy, right?”

 

Rachel sighed again and shook her head. “Alright. But if this goes any further promise me you’ll be with me?”

  
“Of course. I’m here for you, Rachel. You know that.”


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 18.  New York

 

Santana was drunk. Again. She knew she was drunk because she was sitting in a lesbian bar with a suitcase, comforter and pillow and she was not ashamed. And she was having a blast.

 

She was talking to this crazy British girl with crazy red hair and she was hysterical. She didn’t even know how they had started talking. There was something about the L Word and how this girl had never seen it and Santana going on about how she couldn’t call herself a lesbian if she had never seen the L Word and this girl saying she wasn’t a lesbian and however could Santana have gotten that impression and Santana pointing out that they were in a lesbian bar and...well, who knew after that point.

 

“Your accent is fucking hysterical!” Santana cackled.

 

“Yeah, bab, you said that before.”  The girl smirked at her. “But we still haven’t really got to the bottom of why you have your bed with you.”

 

“Well, long story short, I found out that my roomate’s plastic boyfriend is, at best, a drug dealer and confronted him on the issue by singing a Paula Abdul song.” Santana offered, taking a sip of her drink. “She objected and kicked me out.”

 

“Well, no offense, mate, but I think I would object to a Paula Abdul song as well.”

 

“Okay, Red, one more word against my homegirl Paula Abdul and I will go all Lima Heights on your ass.”

 

“Hmm,” the girl contemplated her whilst taking a drink. “I have no idea what you just said but I take it that was meant to be a threat, yes?”

 

Santana narrowed her eyes. “You know, most people are intimidated by me.”

 

“Well, I am from the West Midlands. It’s terrifying. There’s not much worse than that.”

 

“Wait, I thought you were from England?”

 

Red took a drink and sighed. “Really, do they not teach proper geography in this country?”

 

Santana sat back in her chair and studied the other girl. “Okay. Dissing Paula Abdul, refusing to be intimidated by me and insulting my intelligence. Why am I still talking to you?”

 

“Because I am fucking fabulous.” The girl grinned and sat back.

 

“What’s your name again?”

 

“Ruth.”

 

“Excellent. Let’s get shots.”

 

“That, my friend, is a tremendous idea.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Santana woke up with a sharp pain in her neck and a feeling like someone was drilling into her brain. She tried to groan but all that came out was a slight rasp. Water. She needed water. She rolled over to reach for the bottle on her nightstand and shrieked in surprise as she fell to the floor.

 

Winded, she lay there in a tangled heap and tried to work out why she was on the floor. Slowly she opened one eye and tried to take in her surroundings.

 

“Morning sunshine.”

 

She pulled herself back onto the sofa and glanced at the girl in the kitchen.

 

“Mmmneh.”

 

“Water?”

 

Santana nodded pitifully. After taking a sip she managed to get out “How the fuck am I on your couch?”

 

“Well,” Ruth began, settling herself in the armchair. “We did some shots and you started talking about your crazy love for your..” at this point there were air quotes  “straight roommate and her plastic boyfriend situation...I am still not a hundred per cent on that, by the way. Then there may have been some weeping.”

 

“Oh, God.” Santana groaned and buried her face in the sofa cushion. “I am so sorry.”

 

“No worries, bab.” She smiled. “But if I were you I would get this sorted. Fast. I have a friend back home who went this kind of thing. No fun.”

 

Santana sat up. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer to her next question. “And? What happened?”

 

The redhead sighed. “Well, she married the bloke, got pregnant and moved to Amsterdam. The straight girl, not my friend.”

 

“Great. What happened to your friend?”

 

“Oh, she hasn’t left the house in two years and drinks two bottles of Jack Daniels a day.” Ruth chuckled at Santana’s expression. “I am joking, you tit. At least about the leaving the house part. She’s the lead singer of a lesbian band so it’s all fuel for her rage bonfire. But it was rough on her.” She shrugged. “Always is I guess. But the heart wants what it wants.”

 

“Very sagely put.”

 

Ruth snorted. “Yes, well, if you remember my tale of woe from last night you will not be listening to me.”

 

Santana tried to look back through the haze of alcohol and came up with a vague recollection of some kind of personal trainer with intimacy issues. She laughed out loud at the memory of Ruth’s description of the situation.

 

“Thanks for that. Glad my lesbian drama amuses you so.” She smirked. “Now I don’t feel so bad reminding you that told me that you have work this afternoon.”

 

“Oh, shit.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Santana walked in for her first shift with a raging hangover and still clutching her bedding. This garnered some odd looks but she was shown through to the staff area anyway. She started to get herself ready and tried to decide what to do with the new Brody information she had just discovered.

 

The first thing she thought when she found out what the pager was really for was to go after that plastic piece of shit and set fire to his sorry ass. She wanted to hurt him so badly for what he had done to Rachel she could taste it. How dare he put her at such risk? God, she had never in her life wanted to hurt someone so much. But, despite her reputation, she was not a violent person. She would rather just have him gone of his own accord, so she had confronted him.

 

Well, that had backfired. Now she was homeless and knew for certain that, despite her efforts over the last year, people that she cared about still saw her as nothing more than a bitch with her own agenda.

 

Well fuck that. Regardless of what Rachel thought of her, and despite the fact that she and Kurt had kicked her out, Santana was still going to deal with that slimy bastard. No one treated Santana Lopez’s friends like that.

 

She just needed to remove herself from it somehow. If she dealt with it herself Rachel would link it back to their issues and use that as a reason to deny the truth, just like she had when Santana had brought up his sketchy behaviour before.

 

She knew what she had to do. She just really didn’t want to do it. She had fifteen minutes before her shift started so she figured she might as well get it over and done with.

 

Finn answered after a couple of rings.

 

“Santana?”

 

“Hey, fatty.” She smiled. “How’s college life treating you?”

 

“I don’t start til next week. How’d you find out?”

 

“Radio Tina.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Are you sitting down?” She pinched the bridge of her nose in preparation.

 

“Ah, yeah?”

 

“Of course you are, lazy ass.” She chuckled.

 

“Santana, did you call just to insult me? Cos I…”

 

“No, Finn, calm yourself before your overworked heart packs up.” Santana took a deep breath. “I, uh, I...well, firstly, I think that you will be an awesome teacher. Congrats.”

 

“Um, thanks?” Finn responded sceptically.

 

“Second, I need your help.” Santana sat down and told him what she had found out.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The last thing she expected whilst gyrating on top of a bar was to look down and see Hummel’s face staring up at her. It really took the edge off her sexy.

 

After she finished the song she hopped off the bar and made her way over to him.

 

“Way to kill my mojo, Curly Sue.”

 

He looked at her with a mixture of confusion and disdain. “Curly…? Never mind, I don’t want to know. Finn called.”

 

Santana turned away and gestured to the girl behind the bar. “Did he now. And what did manatee want?”

 

“Thank you, Santana.” He took her hand. She just stared at it for a moment before pulling it away.

 

“Don’t thank me. I didn’t do anything. I just told him about it.”

 

“Look, I know you like to pretend that you’re this heartless bitch that doesn’t have any emotions, that you don’t care about anyone or anything, and I will continue to swear by all that is holy that this is true if only to help me sleep at night. Two tequilas please.” He paused, stopping the bartender before she got to Santana. “I have no idea where you are staying at the moment and if you want me to dress it up as we need a third person to pay rent now Brody has moved out I will, but the truth is I want you to move back in.”

 

Santana passed him one of the newly arrived shots. “And what does Rachel have to say?”

 

“Well I haven’t actually discussed it with her yet but she does kind of owe me. You know. She moved a gigolo into my home. Me moving the devil herself in isn’t that much worse.” He shrugged. “Certainly cleaner.”

 

“Wow,” She laughed. “If it was possible for me to be offended I think that would have done it, Hummel. I’m impressed.” She lifted her shot glass. “Cheers.”

 

Kurt smiled and lifted his glass in return. “To roommates.”

  
Santana sighed. “So gay.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo...this chapter is a bit full on. Probably best not to read it in public...

Chapter 19. New York.

 

Kurt had gone out to meet Adam about twenty minutes before the end of the movie. Rachel was almost certain she would never forgive him. Who would leave before the end of Mamma Mia? She ran her fingers under her eyes to clear her tears. It had been a hard day, okay? It’s not every day you find out your boyfriend is a disgusting manwhore.

 

“You okay there, Berry?” Santana cocked her head towards her. “Sugary sweetness too much for ya?”

 

“Oh, shut up, Santana. Don’t think I didn’t see you shed a tear during the Winner Takes it All.”

 

“Whatever. I was shedding a tear for the loss of two hours of my life.”

 

Rachel couldn’t help but smile.

 

Santana got up from the couch and headed towards the kitchen. “Do you want a drink?”

 

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

 

Santana shot her look but grabbed two beers out of the fridge and returned to the couch.

 

“I, uh, I need to thank you.” Rachel said as Santana handed her a beer.

 

“No you don’t.” Santana cut in, popping open her beer. “Finn did all the heavy lifting.”

 

“Yeah, but he wouldn’t have even known about it if you hadn’t…”

 

“Whatever,” She cut in again. “It’s no big deal.”

 

“No, Santana, it is a big deal.” Rachel turned and took her hand. “You tried to tell me and I wouldn’t listen. Then I kicked you out, and still you protected me. It is a big deal. And not only do I need to thank you, I need to apologise.”

 

“Berry, please.” Santana chuckled. “This is my first beer. At least let a girl build a beer buffer before you get all earnest.”

 

Rachel put her beer on the table.

 

“Do you think that maybe we should talk one time when we are not drunk?”

 

Santana looked at her in alarm.

 

Rachel sighed. “Santana, I...I haven’t been very...well, that is to say…”

 

“Rachel, you don’t…”

 

“No, please, just let me…” Rachel stopped and took a breath to collect herself. “I have to...no, I need to do this. I need to just...I need to talk to you. To tell you that...I, uh...God, this is…”

 

“Rach,” Santana set down her beer and took her hands. “Look, you just found out something really horrible and I get it, you’re in a moment where you need to be all introspective and make amends and stuff. And I’m totally on board. It’s cool. We’re cool. Okay? So relax. Have a drink.” She picked up both bottles and handed Rachel hers. “Okay?”

 

Rachel looked at Santana’s raised bottle and let the fear overtake her. She clinked.

 

“Now, what do you want, another film? Some music? I have just the thing to get this party started…” Santana reached into her purse and pulled out a joint. “Got it off one of the guys at work. Up for a walk on the wild side, Berry?” She raised one of her perfect eyebrows and smirked at her.

 

“Santana!”

 

“Oh, come on Berry, live a little. These are the years to do crazy shit that you can look back in your better years and pretend to regret.” With that Santana jumped up and danced back to the fire escape, fixing her with a sultry smirk and beckoning her with an outstretched hand.

 

With a sigh at her own weak backbone Rachel followed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rachel had the giggles. She was doubled over and gasping for breath. She was doing her real laugh and she couldn’t even bring herself to be embarrassed to how filthy it sounded. Thankfully Santana’s real laugh was equally as filthy and embarrassing and neither of them could care less. Rachel couldn’t even remember what had started them off, nor did she care. She was on her knees on the couch, doubled over with laughter and Santana’s hand was on her back. Santana herself was sitting quite normally but her head was tipped right back and she was howling up towards the ceiling. In the back of her mind she thanked God that Kurt had gone out and tried to hope her neighbours wouldn’t be too annoyed, but she just couldn’t quite bring herself to care.

 

She managed to pull herself together just enough to raise herself upright but then another fit of giggles overtook her and she fell forwards, ending up lying in Santana’s lap, only causing her to laugh harder. This set Santana off again and she doubled over as well. Rachel flipped herself over and found herself giggling into Santana’s face. Looking into each others eyes their laughter slowly died down til all that was left was deep breathing and smiles.

 

“God, you’re beautiful.” Santana whispered, bringing her fingers down to brush the hair out of Rachel’s face.

 

Rachel stared up at her, her heart thudding in her chest. Her eyes searched Santana’s face, finally coming to rest on her beautiful lips. And then those lips were on her own. So gently Rachel wasn’t sure if she imagined it. As Santana started to pull away Rachel lifted her hand up and put it behind her head, stopping her retreat. They locked eyes and Rachel tried desperately to understand what was going on in the other girl’s mind until all she could do was pull her back down into a kiss.

 

And what a kiss.

 

Rachel had never felt so alive before. Her whole body was humming. Every nerve ending seemed to be connected to her lips. She felt like she could literally die in this moment and she wouldn’t have missed a thing.

 

And the Santana pulled away.

 

“Rachel,” She began. Her voice was so husky, so sexy, so full of everything that Rachel was feeling.

 

“Please, Santana.” Rachel sat up and, well, basically straddled her. “Please…”

 

Santana dropped her head back on the sofa and let out a quick, strangled breath. Rachel took the opportunity to lean forward and began peppering kisses up her neck. She dropped her hands and slid them under her top and dragged her fingertips up Santana’s sides.

 

“Ah…” Santana breathed out, her hands running up Rachel’s thighs and her head snapping back up.

 

Rachel’s hands went to Santana’s back and made short work of popping her bra open, then brought both hands back to the front and under her now loosened bra. One of Santana’s hands shot up and pushed Rachel’s jaw up so she could reconnect their lips. The other hand dropped between Rachel’s legs and applied just the right amount of pressure to have Rachel gasping into her mouth.

 

Rachel could not stop herself from pushing down into Santana’s hand, every fibre of her being was screaming out for her touch. The way Santana was using her tongue and her mouth was driving her absolutely insane and all she could think was what else she could use them for and, oh God….

 

“Santana, oh..” Rachel could barely breathe. She ground down harder still onto Santana’s hand. “Oh, please...ah….I can’t...fuck…”

 

“What?” Santana looked worried. “I’m sorry, I’ll stop.”

 

“God, don’t you dare.” Rachel grabbed her hand as she started to pull away. “Please.”

 

Santana froze, looking deep into Rachel’s eyes, her brow crinkled. Rachel had no idea what she was thinking but she didn’t care. Somewhere in her mind she knew that the intensity of this experience was in part due to her being insanely high, but she also knew that she had wanted this for so long, and that if getting high was what she needed to get her passed whatever was stopping her then so be it. She was tired of being afraid.

 

Rachel lifted her hands up and linked them behind Santana’s neck. “Please, Santana.” She started to lie herself down on the sofa and pulled Santana down on top of her. “I can’t fight this any more. I am so tired.” She leaned up to kiss her gently. “Please.”

 

“Rachel,” Santana whispered, reaching down to kiss her softly. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

 

The feeling that went through Rachel’s body at those words made her eyes roll back and she clenched her thighs around Santana’s legs.

 

“No,” She breathed through gritted teeth. “But if it’s anything like what you’re doing to me at this moment then I am not sorry.”

 

Santana let out a guttural moan and pulled her into a deep kiss, her body pushing down into Rachel’s with such intensity that she couldn’t help but push back. She dropped her hands down to grab Santana’s ass in an effort to push her deeper still.

 

Santana’s lips parted in a moan and Rachel pushed her tongue in, wanting to taste every part of her, explore every part of her. She had never felt this way before. She just knew that she needed Santana in a way that she had never needed anyone, and she needed her now.

 

As if she knew what was going on in Rachel’s head Santana dropped her hands to Rachel’s waist and pulled her top up slowly. Rachel arched her back and lifted her arms up above her head to allow it to be removed. Dropping her arms she pulled Santana’s top up as well and that too was quickly discarded. The new feeling of skin on skin heightened her arousal even more and she was beginning to become concerned as to how much more she could take. She found her hands pushing frantically at Santana’s jeans, desperate to be naked against her.

 

“Easy, Rach,” Santana laughed gently. “Buttons, remember?” She made short work of them, pushing the jeans off quickly before returning to remove Rachel’s. Lying back on top of her she pushed her leg between Rachel’s and Rachel could feel her warm, wet centre against her thigh.

 

“Oh, God. Santana, please.” Rachel whispered. Her hands were everywhere, she couldn’t keep them still. She didn’t know what to do. She had never needed anyone this much.

 

“It’s okay, Rach.” Santana leaned down and kissed her, one hand reaching behind her to undo her bra. “I’ve got you.”

 

Santana sat up, causing Rachel to buck under her, desperate for some kind of touch. She ran her fingertips up Rachel’s sides leaving goosebumps in her wake. She gathered up Rachel’s bra and threw it on the floor then leaned back down and ran her tongue over Rachel’s stomach, up the underside of her breast before circling her nipple and pulling it into her mouth.

 

“Oh, fff…” Rachel couldn’t even form words. It was just so much. Too much. Her body was out of control, her hips railing against Santana’s crotch like they attached to a pack of wild horses.

 

Santana’s hand was now on her other breast and Rachel swore she was going to pass out. How was it possible to be feeling like this with so little stimulation?

 

As if she knew Santana began to work her tongue and mouth back down Rachel’s stomach, allowing her to regain her senses momentarily. Until she felt the tug of her underwear being removed and realised where that mouth was headed.

 

“Oh, fuck.” She whispered, her breathing going rapidly out of control.

 

“Are you okay?” Santana’s voice was full of concern.

 

“Oh, God, yes.” She replied, a little too quickly and a little too loud.

 

She heard Santana let out a sharp breath and then there were lips on her stomach, on her hip, a tongue running up her thigh, hot breath between her legs.

 

She let out a moan and lifted her arms above her head to grip the arm of the sofa.

 

And then… it was as if time stopped. All there was was this moment and this feeling. Santana’s lips connected with her and it was as if everything else just went away. She ran her tongue up her centre and circled around her clit and Rachel arched her back and made a noise she didn’t even realise she was capable of. Again and again Santana circled her, whipping her up into such a frenzy that she honestly didn’t know if she could take it. Then she swiped her tongue once, twice straight across causing Rachel to twitch into it like she was being electrocuted. She turned her head to the side and moaned into her arm, trying desperately to stay in control of herself. What Santana was doing to her body was so intense that she was literally seeing stars. She vaguely felt herself wrap one leg around the other girl's back and dig her heel in, causing Santana to breath sharply against her and, God...how was she doing this? Suddenly Santana stopped. Rachel cried out and went to drop her hand to Santana’s head, desperate for her to come back, but then Santana pushed her tongue against Rachel’s entrance.

 

“Oh, Gooooo...oh, fuck, oh…” Rachel’s eyes snapped open and she dug her fingers into the couch as Santana pushed her tongue inside her.

 

There were no words now, no thoughts. Just primal, guttural sounds and she rose higher and higher on the wave of pleasure Santana was pushing into her with every stroke. Rachel had literally no control over her body. It was bucking and spasming of it’s own accord, or Santana’s accord more likely, and just as she thought she could take no more her orgasm hit like a freight train, lifting her body clean off the sofa and releasing a sound from her that she was sure would wake the dead.

 

Trembling, she dropped back down, arms desperately trying to coordinate themselves to reach down to Santana and pull her up.

 

“Co…” She tried, her chest heaving. “Cmere.”

 

Santana slowly started to move up, softly kissing and licking, and when she brushed her tongue over Rachel’s clit, Rachel's body took over.

 

“Oh, I can’t, Sa...oh, ffff..”

 

Seriously, she did not know how she wasn’t blacking out. Her second orgasm was so quick and intense and unexpected that she had no time to prepare and was just gripping onto Santana’s head like her life depended on it.

 

“Oh, God!” She all but screamed, bucking wildly, her legs shaking. She didn’t want the feeling to end but she just couldn’t take any more.

 

“Oh, please, baby, please, come here. Come here. I can’t take...oh please.”

 

She practically pulled Santana up by her hair and pushed her against her pounding chest whilst trying desperately to regain control. Santana occupied herself by covering her chest and throat in soft kisses and running her fingers up and down her sides.

 

“I…” Rachel tried to organise her thoughts into words. “I…”

 

“Ssh.” Santana silenced her with a kiss. “It’s okay, Rach. Just breathe.” She kissed her firmly this time, then once more, softly, and rolled them over so Rachel was resting on her chest. “I’ve got you.” Santana whispered, kissing the top of her head and running her fingers through her hair.

 

Rachel closed her eyes and was gone.

 

 


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21. New York

 

Santana had been lying there for what felt like hours. She was holding onto Rachel like her life depended on it.

 

What had she done?

 

It wasn’t meant to be like this. Rachel was obviously in a really bad place and Santana felt like she had taken advantage of her. She wished like anything that she had been able to just talk to her, like a normal person would have. But no, she was Santana Lopez. She couldn’t just have an adult, sober conversation. Way too scary. Instead, she had shut Rachel down, got her wasted, and kissed her.

 

Yeah, okay, Rachel had kissed her back, but Santana was no stranger to getting high and fucking. She knew how much more intense physical contact was, how muddled things got, but Rachel didn’t.

 

What had she done?

 

Rachel shivered against her. Santana suddenly realised the girl was completely naked and lying on a sofa in a freezing loft with only a cold hearted bitch for warmth. She tried to move into a position to pick Rachel up without waking her and gently carried her to bed. She pulled the covers over her and was just about to walk away when she saw that Rachel was looking at her.

 

She froze. She had no idea what to do. Rachel’s eyes were so full of emotion that Santana couldn’t work out what she was thinking.

 

“It’s cold.” She whispered, kissing her gently on the top of her head. “Get some sleep.”

 

Then she retreated to the sofa, unable to look back at those big, brown eyes.

 

She gathered up all the discarded clothes, carefully separating them into two piles, and threw on her t shirt. Then she grabbed her comforter, her Mac and her beer and lay back down on the couch, plugging her headphones in and opening her music software. She loaded up her new song and as the melody started to play the lyrics came pouring out.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She woke the next morning with a start. Her phone was vibrating on the table. She reached out her hand to silence it and swore in irritation when it fell to the floor. She leaned over to pick it up and her stomach dropped when she saw that it had landed on the neatly folded pile of Rachel’s clothes.

 

Santana felt like crying. What the fuck had she done? This was definitely game over. She couldn’t even begin to work out how to fix this.

 

She picked up her phone and checked the message. It was Ruth, asking if she wanted to meet for a drink. She desperately did but she had work in, shit, two hours. She shot off a reply telling her she would see her at the bar around midnight and headed off to shower.

 

When she came back out Rachel was in the kitchen facing away from her. She felt her heart leap at the sight of her, then that awful feeling in the pit of her stomach.

 

“Hey, Rach.” She greeted, trying desperately to keep her tone light.

 

Rachel spun around quickly, smiling, but her smile not reaching her eyes. “Hi!” She replied, too quickly, the shifting her eyes away before walking to the refrigerator. “Sleep well?”

 

“I, uh, yeah.” Santana’s stomach felt like she had swallowed acid. “Not too bad. You?”

 

“Mm hmm.” Rachel busied herself making coffee, still not looking her way.

 

Santana had been preparing herself for the worst. She knew in her heart that Rachel would regret what had happened last night, but not until this moment had she realised that she had secretly been hoping that she wouldn’t. That she would just walk over to Santana, smile, and kiss her, like last night was the start of something, not the end.

 

She felt like her heart was breaking.

 

She needed to go. Now. She needed to get out of that apartment and not look back. She needed to make it easy for Rachel, make it easy for herself, and remove herself from this situation before things got any more fucked up than they already were.

 

So why was she just standing in the middle of the room with her arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to stop her insides falling out?

 

Rachel turned and walked towards her, holding out a mug of coffee.

 

A strong coffee with a tiny splash of milk, just the way she liked it.

 

“You’re working today?” She asked, sitting at the table. Santana just nodded dumbly, staring down at the coffee. “That’s, ah, well…”

 

Somehow Santana managed to get herself together. “Rach?” She tentatively sat next to her. “Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah.” Rachel looked up at her and shook her head gently. “Yes. It’s just, you know, sitting here with you. Now.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Rachel blushed and gave her a pained look.

 

“Oh.” Now Santana was embarrassed. Fucking idiot. “You mean after…”

 

“Of course!” Rachel put her mug down roughly. “Last night was really...intense for me. I’m sorry if I don’t really know how to act.”

 

Santana sighed and put her mug down. “No, I’m sorry. I’m a fucking idiot. I’ll just...I’ll just get out of here and give you some space.” She grabbed her purse off the table and walked to the door.

 

Rachel didn’t say anything.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay, you are going to have to stop babbling and start from the beginning.” Ruth frowned, taking a drink and forcing Santana’s own into her hand.

 

Santana took a deep breath and told her friend about the events of the previous night. As she reached the end of the story she noticed Ruth frowning and shaking her head.

 

“What?”

 

“Mate, all I can say is it’s a good job you’re gorgeous because you are, without doubt, one of the most stupid people I have ever met.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“No, honestly, like you are borderline ridiculous at this point.”

 

“Okay, I am about two seconds from releasing Snixx on you.” Santana hissed, her brow drawing in dangerously.

 

“As usual I don’t have a bastard clue what that means but I am assuming it was a threat.” The redhead laughed. “Look, love, I am sorry to put it so bluntly but you need to be told.”

 

“So stop insulting me and tell me! What the fuck?”

 

“I’m sorry, I just can’t believe you can’t see what you did wrong.”

 

Santana sat back and crossed her arms, sulking. “So tell me, genius.”

 

Ruth sighed and leaned in. “You finally got the chance to sleep with the girl you have been obsessing over for the last year and you almost fucking blew it.”

 

“Hey, I know I didn’t go into too much detail, but I definitely didn’t blow it. She…”

 

“Wow, really not asking for details. I’m not talking about the sex, I am talking about what you did after.”

 

Santana’s face scrunched up in anger and confusion. “What? Why?” She asked, shaking her head.

 

“I don’t know this Rachel, but from what you’ve told me about her she’s quite obviously completely into you and totally freaked out about it. So, she finally works her way up to sleep with you and afterwards you fucking put her to bed and walked off! Are you fucking mental?”

 

“What? It was cold, I was being nice.” Santana still didn’t get it.

 

“No, you were rejecting her. Completely. It’s not like you you left. You made her leave. Like, physically removed her from your presence.”

 

“No, that’s not…”

 

“Mate, look at it from her point of view? What would you have thought if she had done that to you?”

 

“That’s total sh...that’s not...oh, fuck.”

 

“And then she tried to talk to you this morning and you legged it?”

 

Santana shot her head back up. “No way, this morning she told me I made her uncomfortable. I was giving her some space.”

 

“Really? Is that really what she said?” Ruth picked up her drink and sat back.

 

“Yes!” Santana took a sip of her drink and thought back to this morning’s conversation.

 

_“Last night was really...intense for me. I’m sorry if I don’t really know how to act.”_

 

“Wasn’t it?”

 

The other girl shook her head and smiled at her. “I’m sorry, bab, I don’t think it was. I think she was freaking out and wanted you to let her know it was okay.”

 

Santana gaped at her in horror. “Well how the fuck was I supposed to know that?” Now she was really freaking out. “Fuck me. What the fuck do I do now?”

 

“Well, as we know from my current situation I am no expert in navigating relationships with emotionally unstable ladies, but I definitely think you need to talk to her.”

 

“Ay, dios mio. Estas pendeja o que chingada? Cula.”

 

“Right. Shots?” Ruth looked slightly concerned by Santana’s rant as she gestured to the bar tender.

 

“I’ve totally fucked this, haven’t I?” Santana dropped her forehead to the bar.

 

“Not necessarily. Just talk to her, and soon.” Ruth passed her a tequila. “You just need to make her see that you were freaking out too and that you realise you are a fucking muppet for leaving it the way you did. Cheers.”

 

“Yeah, cheers.” Santana took her shot and continued cursing herself.

 

“Don’t beat yourself up, mate. Just fix it.”

 

“Yeah, I hope so.” She shook her head. “So what about you? Any news on your lady friend?”

 

“Well, we arranged a night to have sex at mine but she forgot she had tickets to the ballet, and now she’s on a cruise to the Bahamas.” Ruth chuckled. “Honestly, when I hear myself say it I think I’ve made it up but I actually haven’t.”

 

Santana laughed and gestured at the bar tender for two more shots. “Tell me again why I am listening to you?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Santana took a deep breath before pushing the loft door open.

 

“Hello?” She called, dropping her bag and hanging her coat up. “Rach?”

 

There was no answer. She didn’t know whether she was relieved or disappointed. She closed the door and walked over to the couch. Now what? Should she text her? What would she say?

 

Sighing she pulled out her Mac. Loading up her song she decided to make use of the empty apartment to record the vocal. She dug out her microphone and carried the laptop into the bathroom where the acoustics were better. She plugged in her headphones and set the track going for a take.

 

“Woke in the night to see you lying there

Felt myself held down by the weight of your stare

 

That smell on your skin and this feeling within

Are turning me over and taking me out of my mind, tonight

 

All of those times when I knew what to do

Are broken apart by that image of you

All of those times when I knew how to feel

You buried so deep, leaving me free to steal from you

 

But that smell on your skin and this feeling within

Are turning me over and taking me out of my mind, tonight

I don’t want anything but I’m starting to feel

You’re turning me over, turning me on,

Breaking through my heart of stone and I

I just wanted to stay there with you.”

 

Santana did five takes before she was happy with it. She walked back out to the living room listening through it again to make sure.

 

And almost had a heart attack when she saw Rachel sitting at the kitchen table.

 

“Jesus!” She just managed to keep hold of her laptop as she jumped out of her skin. She pushed the headphones off her head and held her hand to her heart. “Fuck, Rachel, you scared the shit out of me! How long have you been sitting there?”

 

“About ten minutes.” Rachel pushed her hair behind her ears and stared up at her. “That was beautiful. What was that?”

 

Oh, shit. In her shock Santana had overlooked the fact that Rachel would have been able to hear her singing. “Ah, it’s...it’s nothing. Just a...well, it’s a song I have been, ah, working on.”

 

“You wrote it?”

 

Santana nodded, deeply embarrassed.

 

“Can I hear it?”

 

“Well, it’s not finished. I, ah…”

 

“Please?”

 

Santana took a deep breath and walked over to the table. She unplugged the headphones and set the laptop in front of Rachel. She restarted the track and walked back over to lean against the sofa. As the song played she studied Rachel’s face for any hint of what she might be feeling. Mostly, she just looked sad.

 

“It’s beautiful, Santana.” Rachel said as the track finished. “When did you write it?”

 

“Ah, well, I’ve been working on the music for a couple of weeks.” Rachel looked up at her expectantly. “The, ah, lyrics I wrote yesterday.” Santana admitted.

 

Rachel nodded and dropped her gaze, biting her lower lip.

 

“Rach, when I left yesterday…” She started. Jesus, why was this so hard? She felt like her heart was going to break out of her chest. “I...I didn’t know...I thought you wanted...ah, fuck, I’m sorry. I thought you wanted me to go.”

 

Rachel looked up again. “Why?”

 

“Because. You know? After...what we did.” Santana folded her arms across herself, desperately trying to put her feelings into words. “I thought you were freaking out.”

 

“I was.” Rachel said simply.

 

“Oh my God!” Kurt shrieked, throwing the door open. “You will never guess what happened to me today!”

  
Santana really thought she might kill him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to anyone better at swearing in Spanish than me. My knowledge of Spanish is based on the insults they use in Spain which wouldn't work here, so this is kind of cobbled together from various films and internet sites. Forgive me (and correct me please) if it's nonsense.
> 
> Also, for any of you who are interested to hear the melody the song is called Shot and it's by a band called Underwire.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22. New York

 

Rachel was a massive ball of nervous energy. Today was the day. She had her Funny Girl audition. She had been preparing her whole life for this day. She needed to focus.

 

And if there was one thing Rachel Berry did well, it was focus.

 

Well, as long as that focus was on something as simple and uncomplicated as her absolute belief in the fact that she was destined to be a star. Complicated personal issues, that was a different story. And one that would need to wait for another day.

 

She was so tired of this Santana situation. It seemed to have taken over her life, which she could have dealt with, even welcomed, if her emotions weren’t constantly shifting and changing on her. Why couldn’t she just work out what she wanted? Falling asleep in Santana’s arms had been amazing, she had felt safe and warm and like that was exactly where she was supposed to be, and then she had woken up in her own bed with Santana sneaking out.

 

She hadn’t slept much for the rest of the night, she had just lain there, listening to Santana moving around in the living room doing God only knows what, and wondering how she could have let herself believe for one minute that Santana wanted anything more from her than sex. When she heard Santana get up to shower the next morning she knew that she needed to talk to her, so she got up and waited in the kitchen.

 

And it had been awful. Santana was just acting like nothing had happened, but really awkward at the same time. When Rachel had tried to talk to her about it she just cut her off, again, and walked out.

 

Rachel had gone back to bed and cried herself to sleep.

 

When she woke up she decided that that was it, enough was enough, she needed to get over this situation once and for all. Santana had gotten what she wanted so would hopefully just leave her alone as long as she stopped putting them in these situations. So, no more alone time with Santana, no more drinking, and definitely no more drugs.

 

She was all set in her decision when she came home the next day after dance class and heard Santana singing that song. She sounded like her heart was breaking. Rachel could feel her own break along with it and when she found out that Santana had written it, and when she had written it…

 

Part of her hated Kurt for walking in when he did and part of her loved him for it, because she honestly had no idea what she was going to say. She still didn’t. It was too much.

 

And it would have to wait. Right now she had the biggest audition of her life to prepare for and she needed to work out what she was going to sing.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rachel and Kurt were dancing around the kitchen when Santana walked in. She stopped by the door, an uncertain smile spreading over her face.

 

“Okay, either you got some good news or the pair of you did a whole bunch of drugs without me. I really hope it’s the first one?”

 

“Rachel got a call back for Fanny!” Kurt yelled.

 

“Wanky.” Santana grinned, loitering by the door and taking in the scene.

 

“God, stop pretending like you’re not happy about this and get over here!” Kurt yelled again, flapping his arms in her general direction.

 

Rachel couldn’t focus on anything, she was far too over excited to have any kind of coherent thought, so when Santana crossed the room double time, picked her up and spun her round she just threw her arms around the other girl’s neck and squealed in her ear.

 

“Ow! Eardrum, Rach!” Santana laughed, putting her down. “Congratulations.” She kissed her on the cheek and hugged her again.

 

“Thanks,” Rachel beamed, feeling herself blush slightly.

 

“Well, I don’t know about you ladies but I think we should go out and celebrate.” Kurt suggested.

 

“Hummel, I think that may be the best idea you have ever had.” Santana said, releasing Rachel and looking at her for confirmation.

 

“God, yes.” Rachel laughed. “Let’s do it.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Rachel had lost count of how many shots they had done. She sat at their table giggling at Santana and Kurt on the dancefloor, Santana perfectly copying Kurt’s ‘moves’. She had no idea what bar they were in at that moment, they had been to about twenty of them in their quest to find one suited to their jubilant mood. Quite who had decided that this 80’s themed monstrosity was the one for them she couldn’t remember. Possibly they had just been too drunk to carry on the search. Either way, Rachel was having a great night.

 

“Berry, why aren’t you dancing?” Santana flopped down next to her.

 

“Because I getter a bet view from here.” Rachel laughed. “Wait. Did I say that right?”

 

Santana looked confused. “At this point who cares?” She leaned back in her chair and took a drink. “Having a good time?”

 

“The best.” Rachel beamed. “This is my favourite day.”

 

“The first of many.” Santana smiled back at her. “Although, I worry about how much alcohol will be consumed when you actually get the part.”

 

“If.” Rachel corrected.

 

“When.” Santana grabbed her hands and looked at her with surprisingly clear eyes. “There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that you will get this part. You, Rachel Berry, are a star, and this is your time to shine.”

 

Rachel’s smile got so big it was officially out of control.

 

Santana let go of her hands and slumped back into her chair dramatically. “Oh, I love this song!”

 

Rachel tilted her head to try and focus on what it was. “Anything For You?” She wrinkled her nose. “Really?”

 

“What?” A flash of anger and embarrassment shot across Santana’s face. “It reminds me of my mom, okay?”

 

“Ladies!” Kurt popped up with another round of shots. “Bottoms up!”

 

“Not really the way I roll, Hummel, but alright.” Santana lifted her shot glass. “Cheers to the queers, applause to the whores and a huck, huck, huck to a jolly good fuck!”

 

The three clinked glasses and downed the shots.

 

Then Rachel didn’t feel so good.

 

Kurt sashayed back off to the dancefloor, seemingly oblivious to the green tinge that had come over Rachel’s face.

 

“You okay there, Rach?” Santana asked, rubbing her back gently.

 

“I, er, I don’t think that last shot was a great idea.” She muttered.

 

“Want some water?”

 

Rachel nodded gratefully and Santana headed over to the bar, leaving her to concentrate on not letting the floor come up and hit her in the face.

 

“Hey, gorgeous. Want a dance?”

 

Rachel looked up to see a guy with Blaine levels of hair gel and an actual Hawaiian shirt on holding out his hand, a cocky smirk on his face.

 

“No, thank you.” She smiled politely and tried to focus on anything but his shirt. It was not doing her nausea any good at all.

 

“I’m Nick.” He said, sitting in Santana’s seat. Why was he sitting down? “I come here all the time. Not seen you here before, though. It’s a great place, right?”

 

She smiled weakly, willing him to leave.

 

“You don’t say much, do you? I like that in a girl.” He smirked at her. Maybe vomiting all over him wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.

 

“Here you go, Rach.” Santana handed her a glass of water and looked at the guy with disdain.

 

“Hi. I’m Nick.” He said offering his hand.

 

“You’re in my seat.” She answered, looking at his hand like it was a piece of rotting offal.

 

“That’s okay, baby, you can sit on my lap.”

 

“Okay, rapidly losing interest in this conversation.” Santana turned her attention back to Rachel and tucked Rachel’s hair behind her ears. “How you doing, Rach?”

 

“Oh, I get it.” Nick smirked from behind her. “Hot.”

 

“Not great.” Rachel muttered in response to Santana’s question. “Water’s helping.”

 

“Why don’t you kiss her better?” Nick leered, leaning over the table.

 

Rachel grabbed Santana’s hand and made her stay focussed on her. As Santana stared down at her, dark eyes flashing dangerously, Rachel shook her head slightly.

 

“Could you leave us alone please?” Rachel asked the man invading their space as politely as possible. “We are kind of in the middle of something here.”

 

Nick chuckled, leaning back and drumming his hands on his stomach. “Excellent, can I watch?”

 

“Seriously,” Santana pulled her hand away from Rachel and rounded on the guy. “You need to leave, right now, or something very bad is going to happen to you.”

 

He laughed at her and stood up. “You know what I think?”

 

“I don’t give a shit what you think. In fact I wouldn’t care if the next thing that came out of your mouth was your last breath. Fuck off.” Santana turned back to Rachel. She was vibrating with rage.

 

“You fucking dykes are all the same. Never want to have any fun.” He grabbed Santana’s ass with one hand and slid the other between her legs.

 

Santana spun round and punched him in the face so hard that he fell backwards into the chair, which flipped over and sent him skidding across the dancefloor, right in front of Kurt.

 

Kurt stepped over him and crossed quickly to the table, pausing briefly to retrieve his jacket from the fallen chair.

 

“Time to go?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Kurt had been freaking out for the last half an hour. It was exhausting and Rachel’s head hurt.

 

“Kurt, we get it. You’re upset. Please just stop pacing, you’re making me dizzy.”

 

“Of course I am upset, Rachel.” Kurt paused in front of her, hands on hips. “She probably broke that guy’s nose. She could have been arrested. We could have been arrested!”

 

“But we weren’t!”

 

“Only because we fled the scene of the crime!” He shrieked, throwing his hands up in the air dramatically.

 

“Kurt, please stop. You’re giving me a headache.” Rachel rested her elbows on the table and began to massage her temples.

 

“What were you thinking?” Kurt spun round to where Santana was slumped on the couch, a bag of frozen peas on her hand. She just sighed and shook her head. “You can’t just go around punching people in the face!”

 

“Kurt, for God’s sake, leave her alone!” Rachel yelled, jumping up. “The guy was a sleazeball. He was hitting on me, hitting on her, asking to watch the two of us, making homophobic comments and then basically molested her! What would you have done?”

 

That took the wind out of his self righteous sails somewhat. “He did what?”

 

“You heard me. Now please calm down.” Rachel went to find a fresh bag for Santana’s hand.

 

“Santana, I’m sorry. I didn’t…” Kurt sat down next to her gently. “Are you okay?”

 

Santana just nodded. She hadn’t spoken at all since they had left the club. It was really starting to freak Rachel out. She walked over with the fresh bag and gave Kurt a pointed look which thankfully he had calmed down enough to understand.

 

“Okay, well I’m going to, er...I’ll see you ladies in the morning.” He scuttled off to his room, curtain swishing behind him.

 

Rachel sat down in the spot he had just vacated and gently lifted the bag off Santana’s injured hand. When she winced Rachel dropped her head down and kissed the rapidly bruising area softly then carefully set the new bag down. When she looked up Santana was looking at her for the first time since they got back to the loft, her eyes clouded in confusion.

 

“How does it feel?” She asked quietly. Santana just shrugged again. “How do you feel?”

 

Santana sighed and looked down at her hand. “Stupid.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I…” She rubbed at her forehead with her good hand. “I lost it. I should never have let myself get into that position. I should have handled it before it got to that stage but I was drunk and worried for you and I turned my back on him and gave him the chance to...and then I just…” She sighed again and dropped her hand into her lap. “I’ve never hit anyone before.”

 

Rachel pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head. “Come here.”

 

Santana wrapped her good arm around Rachel and relaxed into the hug. “I’m so sorry I ruined your night, Rachel.”

 

“Hey, you didn’t ruin anything.” Rachel whispered, kissing her again. “That lecherous asshole ruined it. Or tried to. Don’t tell anyone but I really enjoyed watching you knock him out.”

 

“Yeah, right.” She chuckled softly.

 

“I’m serious! Bam! Bitch went down. Bam! San, super bitch.”

 

Santana stiffened slightly. “Are you quoting Scream at me right now?”

 

“Maybe.” Rachel smiled into her head.

 

“You’re amazing.”

 

Rachel felt her cheeks colour slightly. “Why, thank you, Ms Lopez. You’re not so bad yourself.”

 

“Bitch, please.” Santana mumbled into her shoulder. “I’m badass.”

 

“As I am sure ‘Nick’ will testify.” She spat. “Unless they had to wire the fucker’s jaw shut.”

 

“Rachel Berry!” Santana sat up, her jaw dropping open in mock astonishment.

 

“Whatever. Come on.” Rachel stood up and held her hand out.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“You’re not sleeping out here, you’re injured.” She didn’t know quite when she had made this decision, or why, or if it was a good idea but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She wanted to keep Santana close. She wanted to look after her. Suddenly all the things she had been worrying about for the last however long seemed utterly ridiculous. They would have to talk about it, of course, but not tonight. Tonight she just wanted to sleep, and she wanted Santana with her. Couldn’t it just be that easy? “Come on, don’t make me drag you.”

 

Santana looked at her with something approaching fear.

 

“Santana Lopez, I am tired and I want to go to sleep. Don’t make me beg.” She felt herself blush slightly remembering the other night, but held out her hand again anyway. After what felt like an age Santana tentatively took her hand and followed her into the bedroom.

 

 


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23. New York

 

Santana woke up slowly and realised that she was wrapped up in a tangle of arms and limbs with Rachel. She didn’t dare move in case she woke the other girl up. This was...new. She hadn’t understood Rachel’s thinking last night, and yes, she had been slightly freaked out but…

 

A smile slowly crept across her face and she cuddled into Rachel a tiny bit more.

 

“What are you smiling about?” Rachel whispered, a little amusement evident in her voice.

 

Shit. Santana hadn’t realised she was awake. Well, this wasn’t embarrassing at all. “Oh. I, er...I was thinking about...er…”

 

Rachel squeezed her and kissed her head. “It’s okay, I get it.” She was smiling as well. “How’s your hand?” Santana stretched her arm out behind Rachel’s head, testing out her injury.

 

“Surprisingly not too bad. It’s a good job his face was so puffy I guess.”

 

They lay there for a few moments in easy silence.

 

“Are you working today?”

 

“Uh, yeah.” Santana sighed, rubbing her face. “I have two of my jobs today and it’s going to be a late one.”

 

“Wait, how many jobs do you have?”

 

“Three.”

 

Rachel sat up, making Santana drop down onto the bed and whine about the sudden lack of contact. “Santana! Three jobs? When do you get a chance to work on your plan?”

 

“My plan?” Now she was really confused.

 

“Yes! Your future plan. The reason you are here.” Rachel replied, as if this was the most obvious thing imaginable.

 

“My future plan?” Santana needed coffee. Morning conversations were not her forte.

 

“Yes! Why you’re here, in New York.” Now Rachel was waving her arms around wildly. Ugh, too much. Santana slid out from under the covers and headed towards the kitchen. “Where are you going?”

 

“I need coffee. It all just got a little too theatrical in here.”

 

“Santana!” Rachel jumped out of bed and started following her. “I’m trying to talk to you here.”

 

“Yeah, well that’s kind of always been our problem, hasn’t it, Rach? The talking.” Santana busied herself with the coffee machine, immediately regretting the inference.

 

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

 

“What do you think it means?” Santana slammed her mug down and whipped round to face her. “You talk constantly in huge paragraphs about anything and everything and things that don’t concern you but when I really need you to talk to me you can barely string a sentence together! I’m tired of it, Rachel. And I’m going to be late for work.”

 

“Don’t you dare try and push all of this on me, Santana.” Rachel said, blocking her path. “I have tried to talk to you, but you're not exactly the easiest of people to talk to. You are hardly an open book.”

 

They stood there facing each other off for a second as Santana realised Rachel was right. She was being unfair. She sighed. “You’re right. Look, you know I don’t like being pushed about future stuff and I am a bitch before I have my coffee.” Rachel rolled her eyes at that. “Alright, more of a bitch than usual. I lashed out.” Santana took Rachel’s hands and bent down to look up into her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

 

Rachel looked genuinely surprised by the apology.

 

“That’s right, you heard it.” Santana tried for a small smile. “Santana Lopez apologised.”

 

Rachel looked back down at their hands. “Well, I appreciate that, but you’re not the only one that needs to apologise. We do need to talk about this.” She looked back up at her. “And about you. I’m serious, Santana, you need to find your direction. What about your music?”

 

Santana rolled her eyes with a groan and walked over to start gathering up her stuff. “Rachel, I really don’t have time for this. I have more immediate problems to deal with at the moment, like eating and making rent. I’ll deal with all of that stuff later. Right now I have to go.” She picked up her shower stuff and clothes and headed for the bathroom, passing a sleepy looking Kurt emerging from his room.

 

She locked the door and leaned against the sink. She hated this. She knew that she was just treading water, she wasn’t stupid. She was just hoping that if she gave it a little time her path would become clear. Was that too much to ask?

 

“Everything alright?” She heard Kurt ask Rachel. “Sounded like you two were fighting out here.”

 

“Uh, yeah.” She could practically hear Rachel biting her lip. “We were just, uh, discussing Santana’s plans for the future.”

 

“She has plans?”

 

“Fuck you, Hummel.” Santana muttered and started the shower up angrily.

 

When she came back out the loft was quiet and there was a cup of coffee sitting on the table. A strong coffee with a splash of milk. Just the way she liked it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Santana was pissed. Really pissed. She couldn’t believe Rachel had got Kurt and ganged up on her, particularly as she thought she had made her feelings on the matter quite clear. She had only had a short break between her two shifts and had really just wanted to grab something to eat. But no. Instead she got pulled into a conversation by two people who had known where their lives were headed since they were foetuses. She was surprised she had been able to hold it together as long as she did and get out of there with only one snarky comment aimed at Rachel.

 

She really didn’t need to make that situation any worse after the previous morning.

 

So she sat patiently in the kitchen and waited for Rachel to get home. Well, patiently would be one way of saying it. Moody and thoughtful would be another. Terrified would also be an option but she wasn’t really thinking about that.

 

She hated talking about things. Hated it. Why couldn’t people just get it? Why couldn’t she just get it? Waking up with Rachel she had been convinced that this was it, they were finally going to get their shit together and everything would be fine. Then Rachel had gone into full on Broadway Berry and she had defaulted to raging bitch mode. And now they were back to square one. When she got in from work last night she would have sold her soul just to go and get into bed with her again. But instead she had returned to the couch and when she woke up Rachel had gone out.

 

And here she was, she had the whole day off, and Rachel had been out for hours. She really didn’t know what she would do if she couldn’t get this sorted out today.

 

The loft door opened and Rachel walked in. Santana’s heart started to beat to it’s own insane ‘Rachel Berry’ rhythm and she began to get seriously concerned she might pass out. Not a great way to start the conversation.

 

“Hey, Rach.” She ventured.

 

“Hi,” Rachel smiled at her. “I’m starving. Did you eat?”

 

“No. I mean yeah. I mean, I’m good. Thanks.” Okay, how was she supposed to talk about complicated things when she couldn’t even get the small stuff right?

 

“Are you okay?” Rachel asked over her shoulder whilst pulling things out of the cupboard.

 

“Yeah, I’m..” Santana sighed. “No, I’m not. I wanted to talk to you about the little intervention you and Kurt pulled yesterday.”

 

Rachel piled her selections up on the counter and turned to face her. “Okay.”

 

“It’s just...look, I know you meant well but I thought I made it pretty clear about how I felt about being pushed on this stuff.” Santana tried to keep her voice even. She really didn’t want to snap and say something she would regret again. “So I didn’t appreciate you discussing it with Kurt and then forcing me into it again.”

 

“I know. I’m sorry. But we’re worried about you, Santana.”

 

“Yeah, well you don’t need to be. I can take care of myself.” She said, a little more harshly than she had been going for.

 

Rachel held her hands up and turned back to preparing her food. “I am more than aware of that. I would just like to be able to help.”

 

Santana let out a shaky breath and spread her hands out on the table. “I know that you would and I really appreciate it, Rach, I do. It’s just that some things need to work themselves out in their own time. In their own way.”

 

“But it’s so frustrating.” Rachel sighed, starting to chop her vegetables. “You’re so talented, Santana. Your voice, your dancing, your songs, and you’re so smart and so beautiful. I just feel like you could do anything you wanted and you’re not even trying. It feels like you’re hiding and making excuses and you can’t see what you could have if you just forced yourself to be a little bit braver and really go for what you want.”

 

Santana was starting to become alarmed by the way Rachel was wielding her knife. She seemed to be taking out an awful lot of aggression on those vegetables.

 

“Um, why does it feel like we’re not talking about my career choices anymore?”

 

“I don’t know.” Rachel said angrily, throwing the veg into a pan and lighting the stove. “Maybe we’re not. It’s just all so frustrating, Santana. You are very frustrating.”

 

“I know. But I’m trying.”

 

The loft door slid open and Kurt appeared. Really, this guy was going to get murdered in his sleep.

 

“Ladies? What is the event the Big Apple’s hoi polloi must be invited to or they’ll pull a Javert and swan dive off the Chrysler Building?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The ballet was fantastic. They all looked super hot in their borrowed (stolen?) Vogue outfits and Santana was on a major high. Her mind was clearer than it had been in months. She knew she wasn’t a hundred per cent on what she was doing with her life, and she was okay with that. Kurt’s boss had only solidified her own view on the matter. Baby steps were fine, it was good. This was the whole rest of her life she was talking about, she wanted to be sure, right? And, okay, Kurt and Rachel had a point when they said she should at least be doing something, and she had secretly looked into the NYADA courses, but she wasn’t about to admit that to them.

 

But there were some things that she did need to admit. She looked over to where Rachel was talking to some random guy at the bar. God, she was beautiful. Santana could not believe all the awful things she used to call her. She would love to be able to go back in time and give her high school self a slap.

 

Rachel looked over and gave her a shy smile. Santana beamed back and didn’t stop looking. After a minute or two Rachel excused herself and came over to where Santana was.

 

“Hi.” She smiled. “Having a good night?”

 

“So good.” Santana nodded. “You look beautiful.”

 

Rachel blushed. “Thank you. So do you.”

 

“Thanks.” She smiled and took a deep breath. “Rach, I need to say something to you and you know I’m not great with the words. Well, except when I’m insulting people, and I really don’t want to insult you, so. And I swear to God, if I even see Hummel anywhere near us I will beat him to a bloody pulp because, seriously, that guy has the worst timing of anyone, anywhere, ever.”

 

Jesus, breathe, Santana.

 

She chanced a glance up at Rachel’s face and, as usual recently, had no idea what to make of it. She kind of looked a mixture of nervous and amused. Well, that wasn’t at all terrifying given what Santana was about to say. Great. Now Santana was panicking. Her fight or flight mechanism was desperately trying to pick the latter option and she could feel her eyes getting big and her chest started to tighten and then she was actively looking round for Kurt, willing to pay him good money to interrupt them.

 

And then Rachel took her hands in her own. She could do this. She could.

 

“Shit.” She whispered, preparing herself. “Rachel, I’m an idiot.”

 

“What?” Rachel laughed, clearly not expecting that. Truthfully, it wasn’t what Santana had been expecting either. Shrugging slightly she decided to go with it.

 

“I’m an idiot. I make bad decisions. I’m rude and insensitive and I am spectacularly bad at talking about myself or my feelings. I have no filter. I’m guarded, and spiky and pessimistic and I don’t have a clue what I’m doing with my life or where I’ll end up. But I do know that I’m working on it and I’ll find my way eventually, especially with the support of my friends. And I know that I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to be with you all the time, I want to protect you and support you and make you laugh and see you perform in every damn show on Broadway. You make me grin like a crazy person when I’m walking down the street and remember something you did or said, or the way you looked at me. You make me want to write songs and epic, sappy poems. You’re in my heart and my head, Rachel, and that scares the shit out of me but I don’t want it to stop, and if I could go back to that night I would hold onto you and never let you go.”

 

She paused for breath and wished she had the courage to look up, but she can’t.

 

“Look, I know it’s a lot and you’re probably really freaking out but…”

 

“Santana.” Rachel whispered, gently squeezing her hand. Santana willed herself to look up and saw that Rachel had tears in her eyes. Her heart was just beginning a rapid descent to the centre of the earth when her brain vaguely registered that the girl was also smiling. She felt a hand on her face and then Rachel’s lips on hers and then her brain went into meltdown. “You’re not as bad at the words as you think you are.” She smiled, resting her forehead against Santana’s.

 

For the life of her Santana couldn’t think of a single one to say in response, so she just shrugged.

 

“Um, excuse me, have I missed something?” Kurt asked incredulously, popping up beside them.

 

“Christ, Hummel, I’m seriously going to buy you a bell.” Santana growled.

 

“Well, Kurt, Santana and I have had feelings for each other for a long time and tonight we have decided to see where they take us.” Rachel said simply, her eyes never leaving Santana’s.

 

“Well it’s about damn time.” Kurt said rolling his eyes. “You two have been dancing around this since Mr Schue walked on water. Drink?”

 

He sauntered off to the bar leaving Santana and Rachel to stare after him.

 

“Well, that was...unexpected.” Santana admitted.

 

“Have we been incredibly stupid about all of this?” Rachel asked.

 

“Um, well, the word ridiculous did come up at one point.” She chuckled, then looked back to Rachel and cocked her head slightly. “But I have a feeling we are right where we need to be. And I always knew we would be here.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...that's it. Thank you all for reading! As I mentioned earlier this is my first attempt at fanfic so I really do appreciate any and all comments, good or bad.


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